“Oh. Well, men like a mysterious woman.” She grinned and shut the door to the bathroom, leaving him on the other side, alone, and thinking only one thing: he liked Sophronia Iraklidis. Probably more than he should.

They sat in what Sophronia told him was a café, drinking something called coffee, and eating something called croissants. It was good but not very filling. Piers wanted lamb, hearty vegetables, and thick brown bread. But since he was dependent on her little pieces of green paper to pay for their fare, he kept his mouth shut. He’d eat mutton the next time he came across it. Until then, he’d starve.

Snow still fell outside. He’d only seen snow once in his life before, on a scouting trip to the very north of Sinta during the rainy season. It had gotten cold enough for the rain to turn to snow. It hadn’t stuck to the ground, as it did here, coating everything in a dull white blanket that seemed to suck all the sounds from the world. Inside the eating establishment, it was noisy in comparison, which made their low conversation seem even more intimate. He liked being ensconced in a private tête-à-tête with Sophronia. She’d said a few words in French to the waiter and filled Piers’s mind with another complete language. If that wasn’t magic, he didn’t know what was.

Still, Sophronia denied being Magoi. Or knowing anything about magic.

“You can eat it, you know.” She pushed her plate toward him. “Half was enough for me. I’m too stressed to be hungry.”

Piers took what was left of her croissant and downed it in one bite. It was basically butter and air. How did a whole people survive on this?

Finished chewing, he wiped his fingers on a red-and-white checkered napkin that matched the tablecloth. A little candle burned in a glass bowl on the table, brightening the afternoon gloom. It reassured him. At least not all the light and heat came from unknown sources.

“Thank you, Sophronia.” He could eat ten more, along with a leg of lamb, but he didn’t mention that.

“Please, call me Sophie. Sophronia is what my mother calls me when she wants to guilt me into doing something I’d rather carve out my left eyeball than do.”

Piers chuckled. He didn’t know how he could laugh when his life had been turned inside out, and Sophronia—Sophie—was in danger, but she made him smile. He liked that. “I’m comforted in the knowledge that mothers are the same the cosmos over.”

She quirked a brow. “The cosmos, eh? I guess you really are an alien.”

“If that means I’m not from here, then yes.”

She leaned forward, whispering, “Are you human?”

Piers pretended to think about it. “The last time I checked, yes.”

Her lips twitched. “Not Thor’s long-lost brother, then?”