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Orestilla smiled. “It might if you spit that gristle out right in front of me. You and Anesia eat like very rude wolves.”

“And Attice?”

“Nothing today.”

“Shit,” Safinia muttered. She tried to comb back through her memories to what her older sister ate yesterday. She couldn’t remember Attice having much more than a fig. “It’s a bad time for her to get like this.”

“She isn’t always?” Orestilla asked hesitantly. “I thought maybe—maybe she’d been born a little slower than you two. I know that can happen sometimes.”

“No,” Safinia said. She leaned back on her elbows, unable yet to name the surge of emotion moving through her. There was a version of Attice lost to the world now; it hurt deeply that Orestilla would not be able to know her. If she knew what had been lost, she would be able to admire the effort it took for Attice to keep the shreds of herself that remained. Safinia glanced up at Orestilla, who waited for her to speak, arms encircling her legs. “She was always quiet, though, watching everything until she could put it together in a story. She loved them, both telling and hearing.”

“And now?”

“It hurts her throat too much to talk for that long,” Safinia said, frowning. How to explain this? “The injury healed, but she still feels it.”

“What happened to her?” Orestilla asked, gently. It occurred to Safinia that she might have already heard rumors, a garbled version of the story twisted into salacious gossip.

“She was taken by raiders. The two that got her wanted to move slowly and enjoy themselves before getting back wherever they’d been heading—it’s the only reason I caught up to them.”

“Safinia—”

“I’m glad I did it,” Safinia cut her off. “I’m glad I killed them. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Orestilla leaned her head on her knees, studying Safinia. There was light enough to see her face, between Safinia’s small oil lamp and the hut, softly glowing from the hearth within. “How was it today in the city?”

“The city.” Safinia flopped fully on the ground. Her own exhaustion annoyed her—she hadn’t done anything more strenuous today than she did every other day of her life. But two days in a row—two days of talking to people in Cures and dodging shit in the streets—she was wearier than she had been in a long time. “I thought I should talk to you about why I went.”

Orestilla’s expression was perfect, studied inquisitiveness. She waited patiently, and her composure—the total mildness of her face compared to her hysterics only a day ago—made something spark in Safinia’s mind. “You knew I would go, didn’t you? You wanted me to look for Hersilia.”

The overflowing of food and tradable goods Orestilla had brought. Her dowry bangles. Perfectly calculated, maybe, to inspire a little extra payback in Safinia.

“I told you the truth!” Orestilla protested. “The most important thing was finding someone to hide me. But I thought, if I could convince you to help me search . . .”

“Any other tasks you’re nudging me toward?” Safinia asked crossly. She felt a little like a sheep being corralled by a wolfhound. “It’ll be easier to make good on my retainer if I know what I’m being hired for.”

“I promise, no,” Orestilla said, looking chastened. “I didn’t mean to hire you, only . . . inspire you. To look for Hersilia.”

“We haven’t seen each other in four years.”

“And yet.”

They looked at each other. Safinia’s annoyance had little ground to stand on. After all—Orestilla had only presented her with the problem. Safinia had involved herself. And what else could she do, or would she have done, if she found out from someone else? She had a thousand rationalizations for taking on the mad, likely impossible task of Hersilia. None of them really mattered. Without them, she would still have the heat in her chest. The memory of Hersilia’s eyelashes on her cheek.

Safinia sighed, relenting. Orestilla brightened. “How was your talk with Tarpeia?”

“Do you have spies, or something?”

“I’d know her awful perfume anywhere.”

Safinia laughed. “Tarpeia’s the same. She admitted she was worried, though.”

“I thought as much,” Orestilla said. “Of course, to me she pretended she’d forgotten my name and then asked if I was sure Hersilia even knew it herself.”

“Does she—”

“She knows we’re sisters.” Orestilla moved the lamp aside and reclined beside Safinia. “She’s probably the only one of Hersilia’s friends who does. She didn’t say anything else?”

“Tarpeia said they had plans to visit a friend in the south. Apparently they’ve been exchanging messages. Hersilia might have decided to go early.”