“[Prestidigitation].”

  Arlo watched glumly as his whisky chilled in its glass. Five days it had taken. Five days to clear out Thistletop, from killing yeth hounds to disabling traps to wandering around looking for secret doors. A wagon-load of goods left Thistletop by the end of the week, rumbling to Sandpoint to form up with a caravan of traders heading back to Magnimar.

  This second trip had been simultaneously more and less comfortable than the first. Arlo and Coradiel had a larger tent to sleep in, but they hadn’t done much sleeping, given the need to guard Orik and Tsuto on the ride south.

  Which led Arlo to the Street of Taverns, near the Pediment Building in Magnimar. Through the window, he watched a pair of humans haggle over the goods in his wagon. Arlo had appraised everything at nearly ten thousand gold — an outrageous sum for crap scrounged from a goblins’ den. But among that crap were several magic items, gear that had been stolen by the goblins, and most important of all, a spare spellbook that the mage Lyrie had forgotten in her haste to leave the dungeon. Arlo had already copied all the spells he needed from the book; now he was selling it for no less than a thousand gold. He figured that was well worth it; the book had well over twenty different spells in it, including at least eight tier two spells. Tier two scrolls sold for nearly 150 gold a piece, and those were single cast prices. Frankly, Arlo felt he was selling the spellbook for cheap.

  His glumness wasn’t due to the influx of gold that would be coming his way once the trader sold his goods for him — albeit with a five percent cut. No, Arlo’s malaise was due to a certain aiuvarin currently stepping through the tavern door.

  “You’re not out there with them?” Coradiel looked aghast to find Arlo sitting and drinking.

  “I trust Johnson will get a good deal for me,” Arlo said. “He’s working on commission after all. Did you kill Orik yet?” Tsuto he didn’t care about — that beast could have what was coming to him.

  “No, I did not kill Orik,” Coradiel sighed, pulling up a seat. A halfling passed by a moment later before scurrying off with a drink order in hand. “He’s been turned over to Justice Ironbriar, who will question him about Nualia’s whereabouts. With any luck, the Magnimar guards will find Nualia for us, and we won’t have to track her down ourselves.”

  “So… tortured and then killed,” Arlo summed up. “Fine. There isn’t anything I can do to save him anymore. What about these heptagrams that were splashed around the complex? There was one on Alaznist’s statue too. Has anyone seen anything like them before?”

  He scrawled out a seven pointed star on the table. It faded away a few moments later as he let his [Prestidigitation] fade.

  “Quink said it was a Thassilonian artefact, didn’t he? You’d know more about it than I do. Though….” Coradiel traced the star back onto the table, his fingers leaving an invisible trail compared to Arlo’s. “I have heard rumours of a seven pointed star being used as an unholy symbol. I can’t remember the god’s name.”

  A small bag landed on the table with a cheerful jingle. Arlo looked up at the trader who’d been hawking his wares outside.

  “Someone bought the whole wagon,” the human said. “1500 platinum.” Arlo’s eyes widened. That was fifteen thousand gold! “I’ll take my fee now.”

  Doing some quick maths in his head, Arlo counted out 75 coins. His fur prickled as eyes zeroed in on them… but this was the rich part of town. No thieving happened here.

  “Thank you for your help,” Arlo said, sliding the coins over. It felt like a huge amount to pass up on… but he still had 1425 platinum left, a huge amount. Compared to that, giving up 75 coins should feel like a pittance.

  And he was about to lose more.

  “That family who lost their father… they were coming to Magnimar, weren’t they?” Arlo asked as the trader vanished with his earnings.

  “Yes?” Coradiel said slowly, peering at the coins in the bag. “The Barretts. Last I heard, they had a house in the Underbridge.”

  “Great.” Arlo stood up, finishing the last of his whisky. “We’re about to pay them a visit.”

  From the spotless streets of the Capital District to the dank and dreary alleys of the Underbridge. Torches burned through the district, shining sputtering light to drive away the perpetual darkness. They didn’t work.

  Three hundred feet overhead, an enormous bridge stood, remnant of the Thassilonians, shattered yet mighty. The Irespan had stood for thousands of years, defying all known logic. It drowned out any sunlight that might reach the district below, leaving an undesirable expanse that was left to the destitute and downtrodden.

  Arlo used his musket as a staff, holding up a bright light as he walked. Displays of magic seemed sparse around here — those fortunate enough to cast spells were fortunate enough to move to one of the better districts. It was enough to keep any thieves at bay, though the amurrun still kept a watchful eye out around him.

  “This way,” Coradiel pointed down a narrow alley, toward a tenement house that stood three storeys tall. Refuse trailed down the walls, piling up by the doorway. Giant rats bared their teeth at the approaching light, only to scatter at a [Scorching Ray] from Arlo. “This…”

  “[Prestidigitation].” Arlo swept his hand around, clearing a cubic foot of trash from their path. His hand kept moving, cleaning around them for a few more seconds before he stopped. “So, how’s the clergy enjoying the poorhouse?” he asked, waving away the remnants of his magic. Useless, absolutely useless. It would take hours to clean up this place, and that would only mark it as special, all but ensuring someone tried to rob the people here.

  “I knew the Underbridge was a bad part of town… but I never came down here myself,” Coradiel said, approaching the door.

  There was no door. A body sat in the entrance, dark blood staining their front. Arlo couldn’t tell when they had died, or who’d killed them. After all the death he’d seen and dealt personally, Arlo didn’t retch this time. It didn’t stop a shudder from working through him though.

  “Which apartment?” he demanded, gingerly stepping around the body.

  “Wait….”

  Coradiel knelt beside the corpse, pulling away their shirt. Flakes of blood drifted away, but the human’s chest was still a bloody mess.

  “Can you clear away the blood?”

  “[Prestidigitation].”

  In a wave of magic, the blood vanished, leaving behind a very clear rune — a seven-point star — carved in the man’s chest. Arlo groaned.

  “Okay. Someone is killing people and leaving a heptagram as a calling card. This heptagram is associated with an evil deity and the Runelords of Thassilon. We’re dealing with a cult,” he said.

  “But for what purposes?” Coradiel demanded, rising to his feet.

  “We can ask Nualia when we catch her,” Arlo said as he turned deeper into the building. “Let’s go talk to the Barretts. Maybe they know something about this person.”

  “What about the body?”

  “Leave it. Either someone’s already on the way to move it, or we’ll get someone after we talk to the Barretts.”

  Coradiel stared aghast at Arlo.

  “You are beyond callous-”

  “I am on a mission. Someone died. It sucks. But sitting here staring at them isn’t going to help anyone figure out who killed them.” Arlo held up a hand, stopping Coradiel from continuing. “And do you really think guards are going to come through here just to solve a murder case? No. They’ll come down here, knock a few heads around, and get the fuck out of here. If they’re lucky enough to escape. Do you really want more people to die?”

  “You are making me regret adventuring with you.” Coradiel grumbled, following Arlo into the building.

  “Yeah, well, maybe we can find another party member. One who wears enough armour that I don’t have to fear them taking a blow when I’m not looking.”

  “So… someone like that?” Coradiel asked, pointing down the dark corridor at an armoured trio.

  “Um… sure?” Arlo lowered his musket, loading it idly as a dwarf stepped forward.

  “Arlo Green.” Arlo’s eyes widened. “You have cheated death, and denied the Mother of Souls her judgement.”

  Coradiel pushed Arlo back, covering him with his body.

  “I don’t know where you’ve found your information, but this is Arlo Silverpaw, not Green, and he has no quarrel with the Lady of Graves.”

  “Step aside,” the dwarf said coldly, unsheathing a dagger. Behind him, a halfling levelled a rapier, while the human strung a shortbow. “You will not interfere or we will send you to the Boneyard along with this lost soul.”

  His name… how did the dwarf know his name?

  Arlo levelled his musket.

  “Leave me alone,” he stammered out. “Leave me alone…”

  “The Mother of Souls is understanding,” the dwarf said, stepping toward the catfolk. “We will make your end swift that you may continue your journey to your soul’s final rest.”

  “No!”

  Arlo squeezed the trigger. A thunderous crack shattered the corridor, and the archer in the back cried out, grabbing his shoulder. Coradiel sprung into action, unsheathing his blade in a motion that caught the dwarf across his chest.

  Reeling back, the dwarf adjusted the grip on his dagger.

  “Take the catfolk, but leave the other for questioning,” he growled out.

  Arlo flattened against the wall, frantically reloading. An arrow thwipped inches from his face, and his fingers fumbled.

  “[Abundant Ammunition]. [Mage Armour]. [Mage Armour]. [Arcane Weapon: Shock].”

  Coradiel stood between him and the melee assailants, keeping them from approaching Arlo, but it was a losing battle. Gashes appeared on the paladin’s body, tearing his gown, staining the blue fabric red. His sword flashed, clanging against his foes, but for every strike he parried, another answered.

  Levelling his musket again, Arlo pulled the trigger.

  His musket puffed… and fizzled.

  “No no no…!”

  There was no time to clear the misfire. He was down to spells, and those would not be enough here. But Arlo had to try. Coradiel was losing hit points fast. The amurrun would not let Coradiel die for him.

  “[Burning Arc]!”

  A bolt of fire launched from Arlo’s musket. It slammed into the archer before rebounding and clipping the halfling in the back. The halfling stumbled forward, and Coradiel’s blade hissed inches from her head. Behind them, the archer slumped to the floor, smoke wisping from his corpse.

  But the dwarf was still going strong, forcing Coradiel back with every swing of his dagger.

  “[Scorching Ray]!”

  More fire poured from Arlo’s musket. It swept under Coradiel’s arm, searing across the dwarf’s face. Uttering a curse, the dwarf stumbled back. Coradiel pressed his advantage, only to have his scimitar turned by the halfling’s rapier.

  Scrambling to unsheathe the bayonet at his side, Arlo shoved the metal into the barrel of his musket. He sucked in a deep breath, and bellowed as he lunged forward, aiming past Coradiel at whichever of the two attackers he could reach.

  The halfling screeched as the bayonet stabbed through her hand. Stumbling back, she uncorked a potion from her belt and gulped it down. Suddenly, she vanished.

  “Coradiel! Drop!” In front of the mage, Coradiel threw himself to the ground, grunting as the dwarf’s dagger scored a hit. “[Burning Hands]!”

  Fire poured from Arlo’s musket one last time, rushing over Coradiel to engulf the dwarf. He bellowed in pain, dropping to a knee. Before he could recover, Arlo lunged forward and shoved his bayonet through the dwarf’s throat.

  “INSRON!”

  The world flickered suddenly, and the halfling reappeared. Her rapier skimmed across Coradiel’s side, and the paladin’s hand reached out. A yelp broke from the halfling, her sword clattered to the ground, and silence filled the hall.

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  [Level up! Choose one class to gain your next level in]

  “Who are you?” Coradiel demanded quietly.

  Blood spattered on the floor in punctuation, dripping red from the paladin’s blade. Burning flesh filled the air, copper clinging to Arlo’s nose with the remnants of smoke. Slowly, the amurrun slumped against the wall.

  “Kaesi. Kaesi Mistguard,” the halfling stammered. “You… you killed them…”

  “Not by choice. Why are you hunting my companion?”

  “Pharasma sent him to us in a vision! He has been stolen from the River of Souls, and it is our duty to return him to it!”

  Arlo tipped his musket. Shaky hands began the process of clearing out the gun. Arlo Green. Arlo Green. There was no way they could know that name, the name of a dead man. Yet they did. How? Their god couldn’t be real; that would be impossible!

  But so should casting fire from a musket. What Arlo did every day was impossible. For fuck’s sake, he was a talking cat with a gun!

  “Arlo.”

  He forced open the frizzen, clearing out the powder still stuck in the pan.

  “Arlo!”

  The amurrun looked up at Coradiel. Coradiel stared back at him, still clutching the halfling’s arm.

  “Is it true?” the paladin demanded. “Did you escape Pharasma’s judgement?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? You don’t know?! How could you not know if you belong on this plane or not??”

  “How do you know your god didn’t send you here to die?” Arlo demanded as he pulled the unspent ball free from the barrel. “How do you know you’re not the one who’s supposed to be in this river?”

  “I… I don’t know…” Kaesi stammered. “I don’t know…. But I can’t let you go free. Not knowing what I know.”

  “And if you insist on fighting, I will kill you,” Arlo said. He filled the pan with a little more powder, but left the weapon at half-cock. Shutting the frizzen, the amurrun swung the musket around, angled toward Kaesi. “Just like I killed the others. I will fight for my life.”

  His body said otherwise. Tremors shook Arlo’s body, making the musket wobble in his hands. Goblins were one thing. Goblins were vile, evil. Besides, he spared them when they ran. For the most part. But dwarves? Humans? He’d just killed both. In self defence, sure, but his mind refused to accept that. They’d been right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Was he the bad guy?

  “Pharasma is… the god of fate, right?” He spoke slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. “If she knows a person’s fate, then she knows whether I kill you or not. She knew these two-” “Insron and Sirio,” Kaesi provided helpfully. “-were going to die today.”

  Arlo winced. Why did she have to give them names? Now they weren’t just nameless enemies anymore. He’d killed people.

  “Prophecies are dead,” Kaesi denied. “Even the Lady of Mysteries does not know what the future holds any more.”

  Coradiel started, his blade lowering further. “Is that true? I know prophecies have lost their grip, but surely they are still intact.”

  “I do not know. The Lady of Mysteries does not speak to me. I merely serve her church.”

  “I’m not a bad person,” Arlo said. “Why are you trying to kill me? I’m not evil.”

  “No one said you were,” Kaesi said. “But your journey was interrupted.”

  “And it will continue someday,” Coradiel said. “Right now, we have a town to save. We’re looking for someone, an aasimar by the name of Nualia. Until we find her, I need Arlo alive. Maybe he did interrupt his journey to the afterlife. Maybe he didn’t. But killing him will only serve to destroy an innocent town.”

  “I can’t let him walk away free.”

  “Then you’ll join us so you can keep an eye on him.”

  “What?”

  “What?!”

  Arlo and Kaesi stared at the paladin, mouths agape.

  “Coradiel, maybe it slipped your mind that SHE WANTS TO KILL ME?!”

  Coradiel shrugged, wiping off his sword. “Look, either we let her go free so she can hunt you down and kill you when you’re unaware, or we keep her with us so we know where she is at all times.”

  Arlo groaned.

  “I’m never sleeping again….”

  Ten platinum crowns slipped under an ill-fitted door. One hundred gold sails worth of money, given to a family Arlo had failed to protect. He could only hope it would be enough to help.

  “What was the purpose of that?” Kaesi demanded as they left the building.

  Arlo noted that the corpse was missing already. Where it had gone was another mystery he doubted he’d solve.

  “Goblin victims,” the catfolk said. “They lost a member of their family in Sandpoint. I wanted to help them. But now it’s time to help ourselves.”

  Plans and strategies flashed through his mind. He had fourteen thousand gold to spend on gear that would keep him alive. He needed a better musket, one that wouldn’t misfire as often. Maybe one misfire wasn’t often, but it was still way more than he wanted. It had almost cost him his life — what would he do if it happened again? The one spell he knew that could fix the misfire would take ten minutes to cast. Not exactly an option in combat.

  They breathed a collective sigh of relief as they escaped the dismal Underbridge. Sunlight streamed down, shining on a weary group covered in cuts and blood.

  “We cannot stay in the city,” Coradiel warned.

  “I have things I need to do,” Arlo denied. “I want to get a spell put on my musket, a tattoo on my shoulder, some healing potions, a bag of holding-”

  “I’ll get the potions and the bag,” Coradiel interrupted. “You take care of… the rest.”

  “Where are we going?” Kaesi asked. “I’ll need to tell-”

  “NO!” Arlo and Coradiel yelled.

  “If you tell anyone anything, they’ll know where Arlo is. They’ll ask you why you didn’t kill him, and they’ll send more people after him,” Coradiel pointed out. “Just… get a tent and a horse, and we’ll head back to Sandpoint. Arlo has a house we can stay at.”

  “Excuse you? We?” Coradiel turned a steely gaze at Arlo, and the catfolk sighed. “Fine. The person who wants to murder me can stay at my house.”

  “I don’t want to murder you,” Kaesi denied. “I just… it’s not a want. I’d rather not have this over my head.”

  “What a coincidence. That makes two of us.” Grunting, Arlo turned toward the Naos District.

  “Stay away from Keystone District,” Kaesi warned, following behind him. “I’m not letting you out of my sight either.”

  “Are all halflings this annoying?”

  “Are all catfolk this abrasive?”

  Rolling his eyes, Arlo glanced back at Coradiel.

  “We’ll meet at your house by seven bells,” he called.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Five people.”

  “I never said I liked being stabbed repeatedly!”

  “Five people,” Kaesi repeated. “It took five people to hold you down so you could get the tattoo that you wanted.”

  “I got it, didn’t I?” Arlo said defensively.

  “Sure, after the artist gave you that panacea to knock you out. You’re an adventurer. How are you so afraid of a tiny needle poking into your skin?”

  Arlo stopped in front of Coradiel’s townhouse. He took a deep breath, and looked back at the halfling.

  “Not a word of this to Coradiel,” he growled.

  “You are a strange person, Arlo Green.”

  “It’s Silverpaw!”

  “Call yourself what you will. Pharasma still sees you,” Kaesi said, knocking loudly on the townhouse door. “Don’t worry. She will not judge you for the murders you committed.”

  “You don’t seem too concerned about them,” Arlo noted.

  Kaesi knocked again, refusing to meet Arlo’s gaze. The amurrun frowned. There was history there, he just knew it.

  “You’re not part of the church. So why did you do it?” he demanded. “What possessed you to-”

  “My dog died. The church caught me trying to reanimate him. Instead of killing me, they took me in and taught me better ways to heal people so they don’t die.” Kaesi’s jaw twitched. She hammered on the door again. “In return, I go on missions for them sometimes, to stop those who would try to outwit Pharasma. Everyone dies. Even you.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Arlo snapped. “Some-”

  The world froze around him. His jaws clamped shut, refusing to open no matter how he wrenched them. Arlo’s heart thundered in his chest, threatening to burst. Eyes dimmed… was he having a panic attack? Here? Now?

  “You test my patience. I will not permit anyone to know of my experiments. Try to tell anyone of my existence, and they will suffer my wrath.”

  The lich’s dry rustle filled his mind, his soul. Arlo felt naked in the darkness. He curled up, trying to hide, but there was no hope. His tormentor could see all.

  “This is your only warning.”

  Sweet darkness, soft and cool. Arlo’s hand gripped cotton sheets. Fingers ran through luxury. A soft moan slipped from him.

  “Arlo!”

  His eyes shot open. Coradiel stood over the bed, topaz eyes boring into Arlo’s. Relief flooded his face, and the half-elf set a hand on the bed, leaning into it.

  “You’re awake! Praise Arshea!”

  Arlo’s eyes flickered around the room. Blue walls covered with portraits, a window opened to provide a cool breeze, candlelight dancing across a desk… he was in Coradiel’s room. A shiver worked through him — the last time he’d been here, they’d done so much stuff. He could still see the ropes they’d used in the corner of the room, neatly coiled and waiting to be brought out again.

  “I suppose you’re going to tie me up this time?” Arlo croaked out.

  Coradiel laughed. He leaned over Arlo. Before the amurrun could protest, Coradiel’s lips pressed into his. Parting slowly, the two stared at each other.

  “I was so worried for you. I thought Kaesi had done something to you,” the half-elf said.

  “Where were you? I thought you’d be waiting for us when we got back.”

  “I’m sorry. I was delayed.” Coradiel’s eyes drank in Arlo. Suddenly, the catfolk realised he was naked. He grabbed the covers, pulling them over his body, and Coradiel chuckled. “A guard was talking about undead in the Underbridge. Something about a ghoul infestation. I offered to help her find out more, but she brushed me off.”

  “You undressed me.”

  “I did. We didn’t know what was wrong with you. I was about to send Kaesi for a healer when you woke up.”

  Arlo looked around the room, but he didn’t see any sign of the halfling. Not that that meant anything — he’d seen how she’d vanished during their fight earlier.

  “She’s in the sitting room,” Coradiel said. “I refused to let her in here; I’m still not sure she didn’t have something to do with this.”

  “She didn’t,” Arlo said slowly. He couldn’t tell Coradiel what happened. Arlo hated this, but he had to lie. “I don’t know what happened. I just… felt faint for some reason.” He cleared his scratchy throat. “You kissed me again.”

  “Was that a horrible thing to do?” Coradiel straightened, crossing his arms. “I was worried sick about you. Besides, we’ve done a lot more than just kiss. And you enjoyed it.”

  He had enjoyed it. Every second of it. And that worried Arlo. Some part of him still felt damned for what he’d done. For all that he’d done.

  “Does my squire wish to service me again?”

  Arlo snorted. A sly grin crossed Coradiel’s angular face.

  “You know, I thought you were attractive when we first met,” Arlo said, letting the covers fall to his waist.

  “And now?” Coradiel prompted a moment later.

  Arlo shrugged. “I can’t get a read on you. You’re devout, but in no way I’ve seen before. You’re a fighter, but you don’t give a fuck if you’re protected. You’re the black sheep of your family, just like I was… yet somehow, that doesn’t seem to affect you like it did me.”

  “Mm. Well, shall we pray?”

  “Be serious.” Arlo scoffed, getting to his feet. He looked around for his clothes, freezing as a hand cupped his ass. “What are you doing?”

  “We haven’t been together since the last time we were in this room,” Coradiel murmured. “And in all that time, it feels like we’ve been bickering about what we’re doing. We have been through the Nine Hells trying to keep Sandpoint safe. Can’t we take a moment to just be with each other?”

  “I killed people today. In the other room, there is a halfling that wants to stick me through with a rapier.”

  Coradiel’s free hand grabbed Arlo’s other cheek and pulled. The catfolk yelped as he fell into Coradiel’s arms, knocking them both onto the bed. Before he could react, Coradiel had rolled them onto their sides and wrapped a leg around Arlo’s.

  “I know,” the half-elf murmured. “I’m touching your ass because it’s one of my favourite places to touch. It doesn’t mean we have to have sex. I’d like to, but I understand you’re having trouble handling the fact that you killed people in self-defence.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Not when it saved your life.” Coradiel pulled Arlo closer into him. A hand rubbed the amurrun’s back, combing soothingly through his fur.

  “You really like me that much?” Arlo’s head lifted, looking up at Coradiel. “No one’s ever cared that much. Even my father barely acknowledged me except to yell about something I’d done wrong.”

  “I care.”

  “Why?”

  Silence followed Arlo’s question. His heart plummeted. Of course it had all been lies. He pulled back, straining against Coradiel’s grip, but the paladin refused to let him go.

  A hand caressed Arlo’s chin. Pressure lifted his head, and topaz eyes pierced his own.

  “I don’t need a reason to care about you. But if you need one… Arlo, you have risked your life several times to save hundreds of others. You have fought off some of the most horrific creatures I’ve ever seen, and you have stayed by my side when many would have fled. Is it really any wonder that I am attracted to you?”

  “Say something bad about me.” Arlo’s heart clenched. His mind raced. None of that was true. Coradiel was just being nice. Arlo hadn’t stood beside him — he’d been moments from fleeing each time! Fuck, the only reason he’d interrupted the goblin attack was because he was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t!

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Please. I… I need to hear-”

  “You’re one of the most abrasive people I have ever met,” Coradiel said nervously. “You are weird. So much of what you do and say makes little sense to me.”

  Arlo let out a slow breath. His head rested against Coradiel’s chest.

  “But I still love you anyway.”

  His breath hitched.

  “Love…?”

  “I said it, didn’t I?” Coradiel said, stroking the back of Arlo’s head. “You’re more than just a friend, Arlo. You’re my brother in arms. You’re my protector.”

  Oh. Not romantically. Of course not. Why would he think that?

  “You’re the person I want to spend my life with.”

  He choked. Coughing into Coradiel’s chest, the amurrun looked up again.

  “You’re being ridiculous. You don’t even know me!”

  “I know enough to know you would reject my first profession of love,” Coradiel said. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back. Your actions speak loudly.”

  “What have I done to make you think-”

  “What haven’t you done? You argue, you fight… but when it comes down to it, you’ve always had my side. Taking night-long watches, staying awake in the rain so I could sleep, watching my back in battles… I always know I can count on you.”

  He did do that, didn’t he? And it was exhausting keeping watch all night, even with magic to keep him awake. Did that mean Arlo loved Coradiel? No, it was just the right thing to do.

  Arlo’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast at the tavern. Finally Coradiel let him go free.

  “Your clothes need to be washed, but I still have your vestments from the dinner with Foxglove,” Coradiel offered, crossing the room.

  He began rummaging through a closet. A minute later, Arlo stared at an emerald green waistcoat and burgundy doublet that he had no idea how to wear. The catfolk was almost certain neither were historically accurate for the time period he seemed to be in either, but he supposed magic had a lot to answer for.

  Either way, he definitely needed Coradiel’s help dressing.