The Larex Forge chooses Hir tools in ways that only Zie understands. Human logic cannot be applied to it. The nullvoid—the great unknowable, entropy itself—preys on the weaknesses of humans and their gelatinous mortality. The Demiurge, in all Hir infinite wisdom and compassion, took it upon Hirself to protect them, in the ways Zie saw fit. To claim understanding of those reasons would be the height of hubris. It’s something a Heretic would do.

A sudden bout of sensation: arms around her waist, a head upon her shoulder. Lightning would never be caught dead in a moment of tenderness like this, yet here she is, all gentle and vulnerable in front of the great theater of the stars. “You let him upset you,” she says, voice tinted with reproach.

Misery shrugs her off; that tone won’t work with her. She didn’t let Jericho upset her, he was deliberately trying to upset her. He’s a demon of manipulation, it’s what he does. Framing it that way is disgusting. Lightning sighs as Misery returns to pacing. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

She turns to Lightning, head tilted. “Do you?” That’s what she’s interested in.

Lighting sweeps forward and gathers Misery’s hands in the heat of her own, pressing the palms together. “You know I trust you. The ravings of a Heretic can’t change that.”

Lightning is desperate to believe, and be believed. Her broken idea of herself has just been mended, and it’s too soon for it to be shattered again. Jericho’s words were a knife in her side too, and Misery twists that blade further. “Maybe I’m just a voidmad telepath, like the Heretics are,” she says.

Lightning looks at her. “Then tell me what I’m thinking right now. If you’re a telepath, why don’t you read my mind?”

In all honesty, she’s too easy to read. When they first met, the princess was absolutely opaque, but Misery now knows her, inside and out, and doesn’t need telepathy to figure out what she’s thinking. The burst of slyness in her expression, the way she scans the outlines of Misery’s body—it’s too obvious. “Calm your tits,” she says. “Now’s not the time.”

“Sorry. I thought you’d appreciate the levity.”

Misery hooks her by the loops of her belt and pulls her close. Studies her expression at close range. Love and lust and longing, the last of which is the most potent, and carries the most potential. Misery could drink of her longing all day.