Orfeus drew her head back and closed her eyes against unexpected vertigo. Higher than anywhere she’d been in Farflung, then, which was her closest form of reference.

Strange, really: the Wild were hunters, most of them gritty and down-to-earth. Aside from killers, what they put Orfeus most in mind of was the fae hunt her mother Basma told stories about, fine lords and ladies astride shining white horses, hunting down prey. But they floated up here free as birds. Like they thought themselves closer to the gods out of those old legends.

The broad room where Luga held court had no doors, just an opening. There were no lights on and the shadows loomed. Orfeus took a few steps in and halted. Silence, except for creaking metal as the base shifted in the wind.

She turned around and tensed. Luga stood silhouetted in the entrance, watching her.

He looked the same, his fair hair tied back, face smeared with ink. He wore the golden sword at his side, and his twisting crown of antlers dangled from one blackened hand.

“Fox,” he said calmly.

It felt like being caught somewhere she wasn’t meant to be, but if there were rules here, no one had told her. Orfeus bit her tongue and dipped a short bow, flourishing her cape.

“Leader,” she said as cheerfully as she could, straightening. “I’m glad to find you here. I had a few questions.”

His gaze dug into her, wintry green eyes. After a moment he inclined his head, barely a fraction. “You can certainly ask,” he said. He walked past her, heading to his throne.

May as well try. “Honoured Leader,” she said, “who sent the Wolf after me, that first time in Tinctora? I’ve learned you’re the one to ask.”

“Hm.” Luga reached the pile of junk, but didn’t climb it. He turned, bracing his back against it, and surprised her by sitting down on an outcrop of metal, nearly casual. He laid his sword over his knees. “I can’t betray a client’s trust,” he said, setting the crown down next to him. “I’m sure you understand.”

Orfeus hissed out a breath through her teeth. What she’d expected, but still disappointing. “Of course, Leader. You won’t even tell me the name they used?”

He drew out a whetstone, and looked up at her as he drew it over the bare blade, sending out sparks. “Maybe if you climb higher in my Order, Fox.”

Interesting. Worth trying, if she could bear the weight, but then she’d borne it all so far. “That’s the other thing,” she said, and put her hands on her hips. “Why partner me with someone who hates me, someone who anyone in my position would hate?” She frowned. “Which of us are you punishing?”