Finally noticing her new eye color, he jerked in surprise. “Your eyes—”

“Fadey, you will forget my visit and our conversation. Shyla Sun-Kissed is dead. When the guards ask who came to see you, tell them it was a merchant looking for treasures to sell on the black market. Tell them you turned her away and laid down for a nap.”

Sleep.

He slumped over. Shyla lifted his head and tucked a cushion underneath. Even though it would save him from getting into trouble, erasing his memories sat heavily on her heart. She wondered if she would reach a point where altering memories no longer caused her concern. Would she be ruthless in order to win? Shyla hoped not, but it worried her.

As she navigated the tunnels down to level thirty-nine, she considered her next move. Even if Aphra remained in Zirdai, would the woman still be able to sell treasures for Shyla? The hunter had mentioned working with someone at the university in Catronia—the closest city to Zirdai—so perhaps Aphra’s network hadn’t been shut down by the prince’s sweep. But how would she find the woman? Maybe Jayden had some ideas.

She arrived at the commune before Jayden. Zhek waylaid her almost immediately, demanding to check her injury. With her history of ripping stitches, there was no way he’d trust her word that it was fine. She grinned at the surprised tone in his voice when he declared it “healing nicely.”

Then she found Orla writing on a scroll at a low table. The leader was alone so Shyla approached and asked her if she wouldn’t mind answering some questions.

“What type of questions?” Orla asked.

“Boring ones about how you take care of everyone.”

“Ah. Ilan,” she called to a group of children.

A boy around ten circuits old skidded to a stop. “Yes, Grandmother?”

“Fetch us some tea, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He raced off.

Orla smiled fondly at him before turning to Shyla. “One of the things you need to instill in everybody is that everyone is equally important to the group’s survival. No one is more important than anyone else. From the youngest to the oldest, we rely on each other and we all have important jobs. If you can walk, you can help.”

Ilan returned with a teapot in one hand and two cups in the other.

“Take Ilan here,” Orla said as the boy set the items down on the stone table. “He’s our best sand rat catcher, and he takes good care of them.”

Ilan beamed. “They like me. And do you know they have an excellent sense of smell?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Big Bad and his off-spring can sniff out the poison in the water. If they smell it, they’ll refuse to drink it. Isn’t that amazing?”

“It is,” Shyla agreed, suppressing a grin over the boy’s enthusiasm about sand rats of all things.