“Ah,” Orfeus said and was silent for a moment. “Good.”

She helped with the rehabilitation, when and as she could. Stopping by the facility; magically healing where it could help; sometimes singing, or teaching guitar, or describing flowers, or bringing in flowers. There were many ways to heal and to be healed. Healing others was often healing for the person helping too, though less so.

To cause harm was to cause yourself harm, too, though less so.

Orfeus sighed and got up. “I must carry on,” she said.

“Business to attend to,” Linden said, looking at her hopefully. “Orfeus, you’ll bring me that worktable next time, right? Just the small one.”

Orfeus rolled her eyes at Mordrai, who grinned back only a little uncertainly. She said, “Soon as you can see to use it without cutting your fingers off, dear.”

“Measure twice,” Linden said.

Orfeus saluted both of them and exited.

She hadn’t lied, not exactly. Linden had assumed she had business, and she did have business of a sort. She was working, constantly, always, as much as she could. Not resting as much as she should. She was only sometimes able to convince herself she deserved to, mostly when friends came by.

Her wounds had long since healed, but the scars still left deep indentations of missing flesh. She had lost many things she wouldn’t be getting back.

She heard familiar footfalls in the hall and drew in her breath, readying herself, squaring her shoulders and jerking up her chin. The Wolf turned the corner in the corridor ahead of her. Orfeus neither slowed nor sped her pace.

She walked past, not looking at him. He walked past, saying nothing. His eyes burned into her. Hatred. Surely, now, it was hatred.

And then he was past her and gone.

Orfeus didn’t breathe again until the moment was long past. “Stupid lovesick fool,” she said, softly, once Faolan was well out of earshot.

She went into her room, and relaxed, setting down the burden of leadership she’d shouldered for Faol all unasked and wholly unthanked.

She was still in the same small room, hadn’t moved to more palatial chambers just yet. The whole base was her property, if she wanted to be technical about it, if she wanted to be possessive. More and more, she found she did.

It was crowded with plants now, vibrant with green. The knives not currently in use hung on a rack next to her bed, alongside another mask Em had fashioned for her, silver accented in red.

Orfeus sat down, and shrugged off her cloak. She toed out of her boots and sat cross-legged, relaxed, just her in this small green space. She pulled her new guitar out from under the bed.

Rivasoa was cautious of her new role, and Orfeus thought perhaps worried for her, but she’d still honoured the gift, and talked to her sometimes. Orfeus couldn’t be too lost yet.