“Do you have feelings for Mari?”

“No.”

“He’s extremely decent,” Nev said, “as long as you don’t mind someone with a compulsive need to be good at everything.”

Lovisa was outraged. What was wrong with wanting to be good at things? It was amazing, how good Mari was at things! Including sex! “Why did you break up with him, anyway?” she shot back.

“You’re asking a lot of nosy questions.”

“So are you!”

Nev took a few sips of tea, then stared into her cup, her expression impenetrable. “It’s hard to explain,” she finally said. “Mari thought I was always right about everything. He would’ve done anything I asked.”

“He loved you,” said Lovisa, feeling sick and mean.

“He couldn’t even see me clearly,” said Nev, “so, no, not really. And he was such a pushover that I always felt like I was controlling him. It was uneven. I was smothering in his adulation.”

“Sounds terrible,” Lovisa said viciously.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” Nev said. “He knows now that I’m not perfect.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Good,” said Nev. “It’s probably different with you, more healthy. He could adore you, but he’s not going to forget who you are, right? He’s known you all his life.”

“He doesn’t adore me,” Lovisa said. “We don’t have feelings. I’ve been having trouble sleeping and last night he helped me fall asleep.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Lovisa jumped up from the bed, gratified when the fox kit yelped and went sprawling. She marched to the window and glared through the glass at silhouettes of trees and buildings, lined with the pink and gold of the rising sun. She couldn’t believe they were even having this stupid conversation. How did Nev get her to reveal such personal things?

“Nori never told me he had two names,” Nev said.

“What?” said Lovisa, turning back in surprise.

Nev was staring hard into her cup. Her voice was even, but low. “Especially not that his family name was Orfa,” she said. “I know plenty of people at home who work for the Orfas.”