Hanadan searched her face, trying to catch the glimmer of her eyes as they reflected the fickle moonlight.

"What is it that you want so badly?" he whispered, fascinated despite himself.

Finally drawing her hand back, she let out a hesitant chuckle.

"I do not think we know each other well enough for that sort of confession."

He inclined his head, silently urging her to reveal as much as she felt comfortable with.

"I would very much like it if Tahni could stay in the game a bit longer. For her sake, as well as for my own."

She paused, and Hanadan suspected that she also resented the lack of lighting for hiding his own reactions.

"What is it?" she asked, as his tentative smile grew wider. Lenga, but he must have been really tired.

"I like the way you referred to this whole arrangement as a game," he said. "And you are right, of course. But usually, people aim to win when they play."

"What if there is another purpose served by simply playing? One that is more important."

"I can only assume you have such an aim in mind, and since we've already established that we do not know each other well enough, I will not ask you what that is."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Truth be told, I had expected to have to threaten you, but since you already know I know where you live..."

"I don't do well with threats," she confessed. "It's one of the few things that can turn me quite irrational. Therefore, whenever possible, I prefer turning to reasonable discussions instead."

"And what would such a discussion look like in our case?"

She fell silent for a few seconds, during which Hanadan focused on her soft breathing, marveling at its measured tempo. This Ederra certainly had potential, and if he'd met her under different circumstances, he might have actually considered roping her into his own fledgling spy network.

"I suppose we would both need assurances," she said at last.

Hanadan nodded.

"Would you like to go first?"

"Yes, I... I told you that I'd like for Tahni to remain in the trials for as long as she wants. That's the first part. The second is that when the time comes for her to leave - by her own choice - it will be done with minimal disruption, without raising suspicions."

"That is to say, the exact opposite of her behavior today."

He would have loved to see whether she'd blushed at his words, but he had to settle for picking up a slight hitch in her breathing.

"Precisely. And I'd love for you to detail the suspicions she arose today, if we come to an agreement."

"Is that all on your part?"

She hummed thoughtfully, then stiffened.

"I was not going to bring this up, but in light of your insinuations, I feel that I now have to." She cleared her throat and he glanced at her intently. "I would very much like not to get hurt in this endeavor. Not me, nor anyone close to me."

"That is more up to you than me. What I can do is offer assurances that I would try to keep you out of harm's way."

"I do not want assurances, I want you to actually do it."

Hanadan's lips peeled back into a wide grin, and it was a very good thing that she couldn't see him right then.

Yes, she would have done very well as an informant.

"There is nothing more that we can offer at the moment but words," he replied levelly. "And if you are done listing your requests, I believe it's my turn now." Taking her subsequent silence as an urging to continue, he shifted his feet and rolled his shoulders. He only started speaking after he'd carefully ordered what he was about to say, a simple mental exercise he always found useful when he felt dangerously close to actual emotional investment in a high-stakes situation.

"Your involvement presents several risks," he began. "I do not know your level of expertise, and so I have only your word to rely on when you say that you are capable of carrying out the ruse you proposed. You say you are available to play the secret lover with me, all the while you are betrothed to the son of a very influential man. Furthermore, you are an unknown quantity in terms of loyalties, and for all I know, you could already be reporting to my uncle. Lastly, since you yourself have admitted to it, you are like a nobody with nothing to lose but your bodily safety if things go awry, whereas I have a far more precarious position to uphold. Simply put, if things go wrong, you might fall, but I would crash. Forgive me, was that too blunt?"

"Not at all," she replied, sounding surprisingly unfazed. "If I may address your points?"

"By all means."

There was no uncomfortable throat clearing this time, and she appeared as calm and collected as when he'd first talked to her earlier that evening. Absently, he wondered how much training she'd put into controlling her voice modulations.

"My abilities in matters of subtlety are quite evident if you analyze my involvement in the royal trials alongside Tahni. If I have understood you correctly, then you had no knowledge of my role, name or function before following me here. In fact, you might have been unaware that the son of that very influential man had gotten betrothed in the first place.

"Moving on, since so far I have only suggested that I am good at hiding my traces, I should also mention how my illustrious mistress got over the first trial which took place yesterday by Channa's temple on the palace grounds."

She went on to describe how she'd secured Tahni's success by downright cheating, although he could hardly blame them if those shoes were truly as terrible as Ederra made them out to be. He winced in sympathy when he realized that Hedina must have also gone through that ordeal, and without being able to afford shortcuts, since some competitors were bound to be scrutinized more carefully according to the threat they presented.

Next, she outlined what the plan should have looked like for this evening. While Tahni was to be ushered away for a quick rest following a cumbersome, but manageable nosebleed, Ederra was to write her answers. She was a bit vague regarding how she would have ensured Tahni remembered the right things to say, but all in all, it sounded quite straightforward.

"I have done my best to address the first point," she said. "I will now try to tackle the rest far more succinctly."

She would have gone right on, but the new hoarseness in her voice forced her to stop for a moment and clear her throat. When she started again, she spoke lower and sounded almost husky. Hanadan immediately resented his heart for skipping a beat and leaned forward, ostensibly to hear her better.

"Built into the concept of an affair is the fact that it cannot proceed out in the open as if it were a normal courtship. If we are to keep our supposed relationship a secret, there must be a reason for this, and me being betrothed would certainly make sense. You would not be expected to take a secret lover had you been capable of going to her in plain daylight and not raise suspicions of impropriety. And as for my fiancé, it is a well-known fact that he is a rather absent figure. Indeed, I have only seen him on a handful of occasions, and we have barely spent any time in each other's company. If anything, gossips would be expecting me to take a lover, given the cold treatment I receive from my betrothed, which is almost certain to carry through to our married life as well."

Hanadan breathed in sharply, but she paid him no mind. In truth, he had a bone to pick with that particular argument, especially since the two had seemed very emotionally invested when he'd spied them through that window across the garden, but he wisely held his tongue. If he were to give her credit for her superior acting skills, he should have been ready to admit that she was perfectly capable of fooling a man into believing she cared more than she actually did.

"Then," she went on, "you mentioned that I might be working for your uncle, and all I can do is deny my involvement, since I have no tangible proof to offer you. But do consider my circumstances, meager as they are. I am a newcomer to this city, an «unknown quantity» as you have put it, so when could I have found the time to be corrupted into the employ of somebody else? If you were to conduct a dedicated search into my past, you would see that I am nothing more than what I claim to be: a provincial young woman just arrived in the capital to escape the life back in her home region. Isn't this common story the most likely explanation? I would also like to inform you, since we're discussing loyalties, that the first and only person I care to satisfy is myself. Yes, I fully admit it, I am a selfish creature through and through. And even though my bargaining position is precarious compared to yours, I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure an outcome that is favorable to me. Please tell me if you are somewhat satisfied with my answers."

It was quite uncommon for Hanadan to be at a loss for words, but there had already been several instances of it happening tonight, and they all related to this woman. What was even stranger was that his gourds sloshed almost invitingly tied to his waist sash, and he felt no inclination to reach for them.

He shook his head, not wanting to take too long to answer, and searched for any words that would do.

"I hear your answers," he replied carefully, "and I believe them to be the best you are able to provide at the moment. While I still find myself somewhat reluctant, I believe there is enough here to justify a second meeting between us. In almost perfect secrecy, if you are so adamant that you can carry it out."

She bristled at that, posture stiffening and chin rising slightly.

An unfamiliar sensation coursed through Hanadan after witnessing this reaction and he surprisingly recognized it as amusement. That was highly inadvisable, since every well-honed instinct clamored at him to be wary of this strange woman. But there was another voice, whispering at the very back of his mind, promising an uncharted path he should be avoiding at all cost, while at the same time aching to discover what awaited him if he just tried to do things differently for once.

Death.

Disaster.

Betrayal.

Those were the foregone conclusions if he strayed from the rules he had painstakingly compiled and imposed upon himself throughout years of first-hand experiences with supremely unsavory individuals - most of whom happened to be his own relatives.

Before he knew it, he was reaching for the smaller gourd, unplugging it and drinking, relishing the sensation. It would not do to indulge in front of this decidedly dangerous woman, but the soothing liquid sobered him up for good, and he realized she was waiting for him to continue.

Very well. She'd made her case, and now he had to decide whether it would be justified to continue their association. He already knew he couldn't say no, but his mind scrambled to find the right justification before he could articulate his intention.

The truth was that he needed her. Not as much as she seemed to need him, but finding another plausible woman who could take her place as a convenient bait for Tohab would have been too time-consuming given that he had other people to worry about besides himself. Just thinking about his sister, his best friend, and their respective situations made him want to jump right back into the garden and make a run for it back to where he might be of service to them. But he couldn't do that if Tohab, or anyone else, caught wind of his involvement in his father's disappearance.

Then there was Ederra herself to be considered. She was not without skill, and would certainly prove to be a valuable operative if he could secure her service. The mere fact that he hadn't been aware of her presence in the Sebek household spoke to how thin he'd had to spread himself lately. He could ill afford such oversights, and he should also give serious thoughts to expanding his informant network, but right now sense dictated for him to observe and analyze. Crucially, he needed the time to conduct a proper background check on her, but it would all be for naught if he failed to convince her that he wanted to team up.

Slowly shaking his head, Hanadan replaced the gourd in his sash and gathered his thoughts. He could have come up with a dozen more reasonable excuses to agree to be her secret beaux, but he could feel her becoming impatient.

"That would certainly give us the opportunity to know each other better," he continued at last, "and I would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it."

Had that been too much? Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead while his eyes widened incredulously. He couldn't actually be nervous, not him.

"I suppose I should be flattered that you desire my company," she said dryly. "However, I must confess that what I most look forward to is helping my friend as well as myself. So, is she in or is she out?"

Hanadan sighed, barely resisting the urge to rub at his stinging eyes. He hadn't been lying, but he'd known it had been the wrong thing to say even as he did it. In more ways than one, she was starting to remind him of his mother - one of the only two women he genuinely respected and secretly admired. Suddenly, it was imperative for him to be as faraway from this Ederra as possible, at least until he could bring some order to his scattered thoughts and questionable motivations.

He also really wanted to sleep.

"That is debatable," he said. "If I could but take a few more minutes of your time, I will explain to you how this business works. Consider this my first sign of goodwill upon entering into an official agreement with you."

"Official? We're not actually signing anything, are we?"

He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"Is that how you do things in the north?" he asked, genuinely curious. "A mere scratch of ink and the deal is done? No involvement from the Pantheon?"

He was aware that different people had different approaches to matters of religion and belief, aspects that very much depended on highly personal inner workings, but he knew of very few individuals who did not fear the gods to some degree. A healthy dose of terror had helped seal many a thorny pact, but Hanadan could hardly fault anyone else for not sharing in the same level of devotion he had been brought up with. In his family, as well as in many other houses of the kingdom, no matter their wealth or social status, an oath sworn while bringing up the protective name of a god could not be broken without heavy sanctions, chief among them being guaranteed eternal damnation.

Of course, most people were more interested in other stipulations, concerning material aspects, as well as the practical penalties faced if they were to break their word. And in one particular god's case, failing to live up to one's word was simply a failure to live, since Attira was known to be straightforward, unbiased, and unforgiving.

"Do we get to do a blood pact?" asked Ederra breathlessly, not even bothering to mask her enthusiasm. "I apologize if I come across as overly eager, only I've never done one before and I've always dreamed of it."

If Hanadan needed any further proof that this woman was not entirely normal, here was her inexplicable giddiness as the prospect of handing her soul on a platter to the cruelest of the gods. Hanadan himself did not like dealing with Attira more than was necessary, and even though his own secret patron was considered to be a lesser god, he would always favor him above all the others. But since Lenga's duplicitous nature did not lend itself well to contracts and oaths, more traditional entities were usually invoked.

Hanadan searched in vain for a valid reason to support a refusal, so he pulled back his left sleeve with a heartfelt sigh, revealing a pale forearm.

"Blood oaths are usually reserved for known enemies who have solid reason to mistrust each other," he explained. "In our case, I think a handshake will suffice."

She hesitated for a second, then mirrored his previous motions and held out her bare arm. His eyes became immediately riveted to the slender limb as he was put in mind of several popular posing models. He could have sworn that he had seen that same graceful arm in at least a dozen portraits adorning the walls of exalted houses and museums alike.

"How do we do this?" she whispered.

Hanadan swallowed noisily and forced himself to glance back at her.

"Just hold me below the elbow," he murmured.

"Like this?"

She moved swiftly and his breath caught as soon as she closed her fingers around his arm.

Lenga, but he hadn't been prepared for this. For some reason, when he'd first seen her marble-hued skin reflecting the moonlight, he'd imagined a cold, smooth texture not unlike that of a statue. But now he found that she was actually warm, and real, and far too close for comfort. If she'd secreted a dagger in her other hand, he'd have no way of knowing until it was too late. And he could hardly pull back now, lest he should insult her and Attira both.

Words spilled out of his mouth, things he'd said by rote before, since he'd made many such vows throughout the years. She threw everything back at him, repeating it all with unbridled zeal, but Hanadan forgot everything he'd just sworn even as she said it back. He wanted to stop so he could bash his head against the wall and curse himself for a fool.

If Lenga allowed him to survive despite his utter stupidity, he'd take this lesson to heart and always remember this moment when he faced the temptation of doing something rash: never again without preparation. He felt his throat grow ever drier as he droned on, until he could barely keep his voice from cracking. His free hand trembled at his side with the effort it took not to reach for the salvation hidden in the gourds.

Never again, not if he valued his sanity.