Lying is unbecoming which meant if Feyla wanted to avoid doing it, she had to make doubly sure Sedgewick couldn't tell what was wrong.

Feyla's gut clenched and unclenched to the time of her pounding heart. One hand still clutched her necklace as she reached out another shaky one toward Sedgewick's door. He'd contacted her using their scrying orbs and said he was going to be out for the rest of the day, probably because he was trying to get the jump on Daydrel, and asked if she'd like to have dinner after she finished up her duties in the office. Dinner with Sedgewick was good any day of the week, but especially when it let her put off picking up her new battle healer gear.

The door jerked open right before she grasped the handle. "Ah, there you are," Sedgewick answered, poking his head out the door while holding his squirming cat back with his foot. "I was wondering if you were close."

Feyla gave him her most winning smile and stepped out of the abandoned palace hallway and into Sedgewick's private quarters. "Sorry I'm late."

Sedgewick shut the door and picked up his mewing cat. "Someone's glad to see you." He scratched his beloved pet between the ears, looking moderately betrayed.

Just think how he'll act if he finds out you've rejoined the healers, a treacherous voice whispered inside her.

Feyla swallowed. "More than one someone, I hope."

Sedgewick looked away, revealing his feelings even in his attempt to hide them. "It's always nice to see you, Feyla," he mumbled quickly while releasing the cat.

Something bubbled on the stove, its scent pricking Feyla's nose. Sedgewick wasn't a master cook, but he managed and his stews were decent. Feyla wandered past Sedgewick's small sitting room, careful not to knock over the stacks of books he had piled on the short table in front of his settee. She reached the connected kitchen and leaned over the stove for a quick taste. "How was work?" she asked. Normal. Today was a normal day and she was having a normal dinner with her Sedgewick.

"Unproductive," he answered curtly. "I contacted my mages at the closest ports, and they haven't seen Desden or Dormaeus." Sedgewick rubbed his temple and growled under his breath. "None of this is making any sense. I know I saw Dormaeus, and Sandrina claims to have seen Desden. They have to be working together, it's too big a coincidence otherwise, and something must be keeping them in the capital."

Sedgewick thrummed his fingers across the kitchen's sturdy wooden table. "You said the man at the healing house seemed familiar, and since you've apparently met Dormaeus, and it wasn't him, Desden makes the most sense. I'm planning on checking near the docks next. That's where Sandrina first spotted him."

"Could we...talk about this later?" Feyla suggested.

Sedgewick halted, his lips thinning in disagreement. Whether he could sense a fight brewing or just Feyla's discomfort, she didn't know, but he nodded once in agreement and that was all that mattered.

Feyla's shoulders uncoiled. She sprinkled a few extra herbs in the pot and stirred them in. The smooth gliding of the spoon through the liquid relaxed the remaining tension in her back. This felt nice, domestic. A sign of things to come. Things she had to protect.

Feyla gripped the spoon harder to stop her hand from shaking.

Sedgewick's hand wrapped around her own. He took the spoon away and set it aside. "Tell me what's wrong, Dearest. I might not be the greatest with people, but I can tell when you're upset."

Words clung to the tip of Feyla's tongue, refusing to leave. She substituted them with others. "Mother's just...difficult. I know she means well, but dealing with her is so..." Feyla voice gave out as she hiccuped out a sob she didn't know she'd been holding.

Sedgewick pulled her toward him. Feyla let him and sank into his hug. If only her mother could see things like this. Then she'd see Feyla was making the right choice. "You shouldn't put up with her if she's going to set you off like this," he said, his brow wrinkling.

Feyla tugged away like a skittish horse. "She's my mother! She raised me, she cares about me. I can't just ignore her."

Sedgewick raised an eyebrow in disagreement, but thankfully let the topic go. Debating Arilla just wasn't an option. "Is that the only thing that's bothering you? Truly?"

Then he gave her that look. The one stuffed with so much concern and worry and love that it made her heart want to crack open just so Sedgewick could fix it. Feyla opened her mouth, the burden on her chest already lifting as she moved to share it. Oh, she knew exactly what he'd do. Sedgewick would wrap his arms back around her and stare at her with those bright, beautiful eyes and say that it didn't matter if Mother and everyone else hated them—

But it did.

Feyla stopped. Sedgewick looked at her expectantly. Yes, she knew what he'd do. He'd try to convince her to tell Arilla to shove off and take her name with her. Sedgewick wouldn't understand. Mother thought he was dragging her down a dark path. If helping the guild convinced her otherwise then that's what Feyla had to do.

"It's not about Morrowbryn, is it? Was she being difficult when you asked her about the records?"

Feyla gave a choked laugh. Between speaking with Daydrel at the gala and dealing with her mother, she'd forgotten that Daydrel had already solved that puzzle for her. She moved to tell Sedgewick about the Dormaeus records only for the words to freeze in her throat. A thought struck her. A dark, tempting, utterly unbecoming thought. She wouldn't have to tell Sedgewick she'd rejoined the healers if she gave him another reason for her being over there. Sedgewick wouldn't feel betrayed, Feyla wouldn't have to convince him of how important this was, and Arilla wouldn't be able to claim Sedgewick had bespelled her away.

She could make everyone happy.

Except for your conscience, Feyla reminded herself.

"Dearest?" Sedgewick stroked her cheek, the closed-off coolness from earlier evaporating in the face of his beloved's pain.

Feyla stared back at the man who loved her, the man who trusted her, the man who wanted nothing more than a future with her and she made a decision.

"I...I did talk to Delia," she lied.

Feyla's heart vibrated in her chest as she stopped herself for wincing, half waiting for Sedgewick to shout in outrage at her deception.

He didn't. "What did she say?"

Feyla sucked air in, suddenly short of breath as she plowed on with her deception. "She said that she couldn't reveal something like that to someone who wasn't in the guild." A half-lie. Had she actually asked Delia, that's probably what she would have said.

"That's...disappointing," Sedgewick replied. "Yet hardly cause for you to be so upset. Was it because she wouldn't make an exception?"

"It's not that." She could stop now. It wasn't too late.

No, Feyla told herself. I still need to fix this.

"She said...she said that if I was back in the guild, not even as a healer but just to help out, then she'd be able to tell me."

Sedgewick cocked an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

Feyla took a deep breath. The tightening in her chest made it harder than normal. "Delia's been really stressed with trying to sort everything out after the fire. If I come in and help her, she'll tell me about what was stolen."

The change was instantaneous. Sedgewick frantically shook his head as if Delia had wanted them to sacrifice their firstborn. "No. Gates, no. I wouldn't ask that of you, Dearest. I know how you feel about going back there."

Oh, he was so sweet. Everyone was going to see that. She'd make them see that, even if it took rejoining the guild to do it. "I can handle it! It wouldn't be healing. Just...assistant stuff. Like I do with you."

Sedgewick shook his head and looked away. "I don't know, Feyla. It's Lord's Season. I need you here with me."

Feyla's empty stomach fell. She clasped her necklace and stepped closer. "I am with you."

"I meant in the office." A small smile still played at his lips.

"Daydrel asked for my help at the gala."

Sedgewick snorted. "He's rather predictable, isn't he?"

"I don't want to help Daydrel," Feyla said, channeling every bit of the truth she could into her voice as if it could make up for the lies she'd told. "I want to help you. Let me do this. Please?" That wasn't a lie. She did want to help Sedgewick, but it wasn't possible.

Sedgewick wavered, the scales in his mind weighting Feyla's absence against her potential to aid him. After what felt like a whole age of the world, his shoulders slacked and he relented. "Just for now. If Morrowbryn tries to suck you back in, then I want you to drop this, understand?" Sedgewick's eyes fell to her injured arm. "Let's avoid a repetition of what happened the last time you visited a healing house."

Feyla dug her nails into her palms to keep from wincing. She'd be doing a lot more dangerous things than just sitting around a healing house this time. "I'll be careful. Do you really think it could happen again?"

Sedgewick nodded, his ear twitching as old memories played across his face. "Wizards—mages as well I suppose—tend to fall back into the same signature spells. Given the way he went about burning the healing house, it wouldn't surprise me if he employed similar methods elsewhere." He paused, lips twitching as he took her hand. "As for you being careful, I'm not sure I believe you."

An undiluted shot of panic coursed through Feyla. He'd figured it out already?

Sedgewick's previous slight smile wrinkled in confusion. He'd been playing with her. "Let's talk about something else," he suggested.

Feyla nodded her head in agreement. Sedgewick must have thought she didn't like talking about her injury.

Sedgewick wrapped his arm back around her waist and began stirring the stew himself. "I thought we could look at paint colors or wood trims or...whatever it is people put in their houses. I had a few samples brought in."

Feyla smiled, not needing to fake it this time. "I'd love that."

***********************

Author's Note: Eeee, Feyla, nooo. What does everyone think of this latest development? I'd also highly recommend listening to the song in this one. It fits really well and I've been saving it for this chapter especially. The next chapter might get moved around, but I'll post the snippet anyway.

Chapter 20: The red light flashed back to life, and lit up the man's face now directly beside his own. "No fighting. Look at me."