Once they made it to the Boars Backstrap, Fykes greeted them at the door, with a stern expression on his face.

"What were you two—Katerin!" He blinked, as Katerin pulled her hood back, to reveal a mirage of injuries.

He took her hand, and she winced. He turned to Arjiah, incredulous. "What happened?" his tone struck high notes that gave Katerin the urge to smile, though she refused.

"All external wounds, dear," Arjiah reassured.

"We're fine," Katerin said, trying to hide the exhaustion she felt.

Arjiah nodded. "A little snag in removing the teleportation net, is all." She glanced to Katerin as though they were partners in crime.

"Snags that embedded pieces of masonry in your face?" Fykes remarked.

Fykes' alarm had spindle hurriedly carrying several mugs to their table and gazing at Katerin with a pale expression.

She sat with Fykes next to her and Arjiah pulling bandages, cleaning cloths, and salves from her bag.

Gracie chuckled from behind the bar. "They were ready to start a riot over the two of you." She gave her words emphasis by swinging the spatula in her hand back and forth between them.

"Yeah," agreed Brazen, while Fykes shook his head.

"No riots," he said. "But what in the hells happened?"

Katerin explained what had transpired as Arjiah properly cleaned and bandaged her wounds. By the time Arjiah was done, Katerin's face and hands looked as if they had never been better, though her side was wrapped tightly, and ached constantly. She had left out any mention of Mordai, for the moment, as she noticed the tension in Fykes' shoulders. There was no need to upset him further, and she did not quite know what to think of the conversation, yet.

Fykes sighed, giving her a side-long look. "You cannot stay out of trouble, can you?"

"I wasn't trying to find any."

"Appears it finds you," Gracie mumbled from the side.

Spindle nodded in emphatic agreement with his wife.

"She was only aiding and protecting the whims of a curious Amerlian." Arjiah raised one eyebrow. "Do you, Gregorio Fykes, think me incapable?"

Fykes froze. "No. Of course not! But..."

Arjiah leaned over in a fit of laughter as Fykes groped to find something to say, before she gazed at him with mischief, and shook her head. "I know you better than that. Don't worry, dear."

Katerin put an arm around his shoulders and heard him mutter under his breath about women and their cruelty.

Gracie insisted that they stay at the tavern, in the room she kept for family members. Awhile after Arjiah had retired and Brazen had fallen asleep on his stool, Fykes and Katerin left the candle light of the common room for the quiet and simple bedroom Mary had offered.

As Katerin extinguished the candle, she lay her head on Fykes' shoulder. Don't say anything, she told herself. Don't say... "Mordai was in the square, tonight."

Fykes sat up, and she could feel his eyes on her as she leaned on him.

"How many surprises can there be in a single day?" he asked, sounding tired, but not annoyed. "Was it him you fought?"

"No. He didn't even call the guards." Katerin sighed. "He said... a lot. That I never knew about before."

"Do you believe him?"

"Should I?"

"In my opinion, no. All I've seen him do is steal from you, manipulate you, and try to have you captured or killed." Fykes tone was earnest, but it held an opinionated edge.

Katerin bit her lip as he spoke, seeing no way to deny any of those things.

"I wouldn't give him the time of day. But I don't know him. You do."

"Do you think that's all there is to it? I used to know him?" She swallowed back her thoughts. "All of this just makes me feel like I should be helping him... but..."

"Helping him at this point, means imprisonment, or worse." Fykes sighed, and shifted so that he was facing her, leaving the blankets forgotten around their legs. "If he wanted help, he could have asked anyone for it, and offering him your support if he doesn't want it is like throwing coins in a conman's wishing well. For all he did, even if we take Kryrial into account... he's a murderer and a thief."

"Sylvestris was likely far less... good, than the resistance wants to paint him."

"And the Varsly children? What were they?"

Katerin exhaled and stayed silent for many moments. "Do you think I'll have to kill him, to fix all of this?"

"You don't have to, but at this point his fate is—" Fykes faltered.

"Sealed," she finished, feeling a sinking in her chest.

"Hearth-Home wants its justice. You promised Graiden a thief..."

"So even if I don't kill him, I'm handing him over to a death sentence."

"I don't like him, nor do I think he has done anything worthy of your worry. But I'll stand beside you, whatever you choose."

Katerin let out a breath, taking in the scene of Fykes' long hair, and the shape of his shoulders as the moon illuminated them outside the window. "Why?"

"Because where I don't see him worthy of your worry, you have already proven to be worthy of mine."