My brain worked on overdrive while I gave climbing lessons to eager children. When Serigg said I was not safe at the Refuge, was she talking about the growing hostilities between Northerners and Southies? Or did she know something about the Head Chef?

Uzmed had thumped on my door at a quarter past nine, reeking of alcohol, and led me to a vacant room. When he brandished a plastic knife, I feared he would bury it in my gut. Instead, he launched into a  surprisingly well-structured lesson. Still, I couldn't help wondering if self-defense lessons with Uzmed would actually help me defend myself or just provide a convenient way for Uzmed to kill me if and when he saw fit.

An hour later, I staggered back to my room with aching muscles, a dozen welts, and meager gains in combat skills. I planned to parse through my mother's book again to hunt for connections to Serigg's allegations. Instead, I flopped down on my bed and didn't think about Serigg or the Refuge or even the Head Chef.

I only thought about Rekkan.

Serigg's concerns about him did not worry me. His mind worked differently? All minds worked differently, and I liked his mind just the way it was. But I could not make sense of his recent harsh words and evasion. A part of me wanted to apologize for my unknown misstep, but I bucked the inclination. He was the one who needed to apologize. The biggest change for us moving to the Refuge was the addition of people, and we came here because he wanted me to save them. How could I save anyone without even talking to them?

The next morning, I hobbled toward the cafeteria like my legs were stilts. As I pushed through the crowd of Southies to the tune of "Freedom, freedom at last," I drew a steadying breath and clamped down on a rush of nerves and excitement. I made my way to my seat during "Isn't there such joy." But as the singer closed with "Forget all of your troubles and be free," I involuntarily sought out Rekkan.

He stood still among the surging Northerners like a boulder breaching a stream, and his eyes latched on me. I was reminded of the Overcooked swarming around him toward the minefield. But that day, his relaxed posture oozed calm confidence. Now, his jaw clenched, and his hands formed fists below the thumbs hitched in his pockets.

In several jerky movements, I locked down into my usual chair and stared at my strumming fingers. Mekkar, Ivogg, Zhina, and the rest of the usual group filed into their usual seats and started up a conversation, but my attention fastened to the footsteps coming toward us. I listened to the heel-to-toe of each boot, the steady rhythm, the slight pitch difference between the landing of his muscular leg and his lighter bionic one.

Behind the chair beside me, he stopped. Though I felt his eyes on me, I kept my gaze on my hands, squeezing my fingers one at a time. Breathe steady. I'm not nervous.

How do I look when I'm not nervous?

"Can I sit here?"

At the sound of his soft bass, my head jerked up of its own accord. His eyes met mine, brow furrowed and gaze tentative.

"Of course," I croaked.

He lowered into the chair, movements carefully controlled, and folded his hands in front of him as if at a job interview.

With a clunk and whir, breakfast arrived. A rainbow of fresh fruits heaped high, steam wafted from nut breads, and sausages glistened. While everyone else helped themselves to food, Rekkan and I remained motionless.

Rekkan side-glanced me and tapped a finger over his empty plate. "You were walking a bit... well, you look sore." His soft voice held an invitation, not a demand.

Ether, I wanted to tell him the truth. But as much as I trusted Rekkan not to hurt me, I wasn't sure what he would do if he knew Southies had attacked me... and that I was trusting a drunken deserter from the Seven Sentries to train me.

"I was teaching kids how to climb last night."

He gave a slow nod. "Ah. And how did that go?"

"It was fun. The Northerner kids and Southie kids wanted to stay separate at the start, but they completely forgot about it by the end."

"And Fennikk was there?"

I cocked my head, surprised by the question, but his face remained unreadable. "Yeah, she was there. She beat everyone else, actually."

He hummed approval.

I glanced across the table to where Mekkar nibbled on a slice of bread, tracked Ivogg and Zhina's conversation with a pinched smile. "How was your guitar lesson with Mekkar?"

Rekkan's eyes flicked from Mekkar to another table in the corner, where Serigg joined the Northerner greenhouse crew. "It was fine."

"And how's Fluffy?"

"Same as usual." His eyes returned to me, and he flattened his palms on the table. "Zaf, I was thinking about yesterday, and I realized... I never told you how good it was."

I blinked. "What was good?"

"The bread you made. It turned out really well."

My breath hitched. Well, that wasn't an apology, exactly, but fuck it, I was already grinning. "You think so?"

"Yep."

While the bread itself was insignificant, the admission felt huge. Maybe Rekkan craved reconciliation as badly as I did. Maybe he had stayed up worrying about me while I worried about him.

"Next year, I can make you a better birthday cake," I said.

His eyes dropped to my smile, and his own lips twitched. "Yeah?" Tension still clung to his smooth bass, an unwelcome hitchhiker I wasn't sure how to attribute or dislodge. "You don't need to learn how to cook, but if that's what you want, that's great."

"And what do you want?"

He shrugged, rotating one hand palm-up to accentuate the gesture.

The hand slid an inch toward me.

I stared at the tiny, almost-accidental breaching of the space between us. And while I stared, I was fairly sure he stopped breathing.

I laced my fingers with his.

At the familiar feel of his warm, callused skin, my shoulders softened and breath drained. In my peripheral vision, his chest deflated.

Something else still permeated the air — some words left unsaid, some uncertainties a little hand-holding could not answer. But at that moment, I only wanted to bask in his presence; the magic of his skin against mine; the moment of right where so much felt wrong.

"Guess we should eat," Rekkan said, not moving his hand.

"Guess so," I replied, grasping his hand tighter.

Mekkar interrupted the moment, swallowing a bite of food and raising a palm toward me. "Zafaru, you should hear Rekkan play guitar. I can't believe how fast he's picking it up! Really remarkable."

"I would love to hear it," I said.

Rekkan snorted and withdrew his hand to serve himself some food. "Trust me; it's not remarkable."

Ivogg dabbed his mouth and nodded at me. "Zafaru is making amazing progress in the kitchen too. Pretty soon I'll have to learn from him!"

As everyone at the table smiled at me, I tugged at my collar. While Rekkan's praise delighted me, this much attention was just embarrassing. "It was one loaf of bread, Ivogg."

Ivogg clucked and flicked his wrist. "Now, now. Don't downplay your —"

"Zaf." Rekkan's razor-sharp tone sliced through Ivogg's flattery. "What happened to your neck?"

I tucked my chin, following his gaze to the faded nick-mark from Bezan's sharpened butter knife. A splash of cold panic doused the heat.

"Uh..." I pulled the collar back up to cover the mark. "I cut myself shaving."

"You cut yourself shaving," he repeated in the same slow, measured tone from earlier.

"That's right," I said.

"Alright."

Though I should have been happy he was ready to drop the subject, the resignation in his voice scared me more than venom. Running and climbing usually prevented my father's anger from hurting me.

I didn't know how to prevent Rekkan's withdrawal.

When our conversation ground to a halt, the three could-have-been-triplets delivered lab reports while I ate. My mother's lab reports had once intrigued me, but my current distracted mind had trouble focusing. Anyway, all reports sounded positive. Almost too positive.

Too good to be true.

Before I could stop myself, I interrupted one of them with a question. "So, what problems are you facing?"

Her head tipped to the side, and she twirled a finger through one of her braided pigtails. "What do you mean, Zafaru?"

"There must be something going wrong. I mean, nothing is perfect."

"Freedom is perfect," she replied.

Undigested food congealed in my stomach. "Freedom?"

"Isn't freedom such a joy?"

"Uh..." I swung a glance around the table, appealing for backup. Was it only me who found her optimism unsettling?

Ivogg chuckled. "Well, Lazora always was the problem-finder in the group. Maybe you should check out the lab, Ru. I'm sure you could find something we need to —"

"'Ru?'" Rekkan interrupted, raising eyebrows at me.

Ivogg responded before I could. "That's what his mom used to call him. Cute, isn't it?"

Rekkan pushed away his plate. "Very cute."

Ivogg flashed him a smile. "So glad you think so. Lazora was a complete gem, just like our dear Ru!"

"Ah," said Rekkan, face stoney.

I frowned at him. "Rekkan..."

His eyes met mine, voice and face infuriatingly aloof. "What?"

My tongue played against the inside of my teeth, awaiting an order from my unresponsive brain.

Ivogg clucked his tongue. "Say, why don't you both join my group for Mediation today? Not that you need any kind of mediation with each other, obviously..." A nervous chuckle from Ivogg while the rest of the table exchanged glances. "But maybe you could work together as a team." He straightened his bowtie — green and yellow stripes today. "Am I right, or am I right?"

Several beats of awkward silence. Then, music.

"Freedom, freedom at last..."

Ivogg planted both hands on the table and pushed to his feet. "Well, that's the start of Contribution! Ru, you can follow me to the kitchen." He snapped a finger-gun in the direction of our exit.

I hesitated, glancing at Rekkan. "If you have a problem with something, just say it."

"I don't have any problem," he said. "Do you?"

A response swelled in my throat. Yes, I have a problem, I wanted to tell him, Because you can dismiss me so easily... like everything that has happened between us means nothing.

Because the happiest month of my life was with you, but you were happier alone.

My father's face flashed past my eyes, accompanied by a chuckle so vivid I could almost feel the reverberations. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.

"I'm fine," I said, and I followed Doctor Ivogg out the door.