The Inquisition Hall in Flowers-By-The-River was actually a building. Not a church backroom like it was in Oakheart.

  It was made of white stone stacked into a compact square building, with stained glass windows protected by iron bars. The massive, wooden doors were reinforced with iron too, which clashed with the golden eye imprinted atop. There was a throng of people – far more than a crowd – and my arms began to shake; hair twitching and rising.

  I quickly looked left and right, but the only person nearby was Tarskel. Since he was Madeleine’s brother, there was this familiarity that oozed off of him to me, reminding me too much like Madeleine. I reached forward and slid my arms against his, and as I suspected, he didn’t back away or pull his arm off. He let himself be dragged in, giving me a soft glance and nodding.

  “Nothing to worry about, demoiselle. The Inquisition often handles the civic matters when the guards will not, and I hear the [Inquisitor] that replaced Sera is a man of impressive stature.”

  “Addy?” I quietly said. Tarskel had to lean his head down, but didn’t ask me to repeat myself! I smiled appreciatively, awaiting a response.

  “Addy… Adrian? Je vois. [Archon] Adrian Skye, yes.” Tarskel responded.

  “Noel mentioned that too, but last I saw him, he was an [Inquisitor]. What is an Archon?” I softly asked.

  A rather noisy woman in a hat that took up too much space and a dress that was far too rotund in the back with its pink frills pushed past us. She was quickly joined by a few others, but this time, Tarskel got in the way to direct them away from us. They crowded against the door, adding to that growing throng of people – it was positively becoming a horde.

  Tarskel looked to the sky, and then glanced to the left, to the empty space beside me. HIs eyes scanned left and right, and his lips followed along. He nodded, before turning towards me.

  “An [Archon] is the old term for the Head Inquisitor, which had fallen out of favour in 1050’s during the reunification of Amaril’s Law and the Civic Law under the Queen. An [Archon], allegedly, had links with Amaril himself!” Tarskel explained, his voice losing that melodic edge to sound like a boy called to read a passage in text.

  “That’s… surprisingly academic,” I stated. “How do you know that?”

  Tarskel’s fingers tapped his skull. “[Bardic Knowledge], demoiselle. Now, viens , we should pass through this crowd.”

  The two of us tried to move in, but the horde wouldn’t move away. Tarskel tried to push past them gently, but most of them held their place. I looked up at him, and instead of following the polite route, I released his arm and began to push through the crowd.

  Warm bodies, foul-smelling odors masked with perfumes and rosewater, and the chaffing of linens and silk. That’s all I felt, till I had come to the front, dragging Tarskel like a plough behind me. The crowd didn’t weave like soil though, more like clay that was too stubborn to get out of the way.

  We approached the door and saw that it was closed, with the people in front clamoring against it. Many hands banged against the wood, but…

  …In the novels I read, the only time this happened was when the corrupt [Inquisitor] had done something wrong and the populace was coming to collect his head. Corrupt wasn’t the word I would have thought with Addy at all.

  And the crowd seemed to share that sentiment. There was a… zealotry to their motion, and the words coming off their tongue were laced with sweetness. I had heard the tone before, and my body froze.

  The tone was like Laertes, Wizex, Ophelia or any of my… ‘friends’ that worked from the shadows.

  Reverence.

  “Please! The Guards won’t do anything about it, you have to help!”

  “Just touch my head, I know you’ll make it better!”

  “Do you really bleed Amaril’s Gaze?!”

  I looked up at Tarskel, who had already held up a small book. His quill wrote rapidly, before looking down at me. “Pardon, la… [Cryotheurge], did you know him before you ascended?”

  I slowly nodded, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

  “Magnifique, this story…” he began. “Now, have you two ever been intim–”

  “You finish that sentence, and I will tell your sister to turn you into a pig,” I immediately said, dropping my voice flat and cold.

  “..my sister?” he repeated. His eyes scanned my face before lighting up in recognition. “Madeleine is not my sister!”

  I shook my head at the obvious lie, and then turned to the door. The crowd was banging on it heavily, and it was making it hard to concentrate. Too much noise, too much sound, too much sensation, and even if Tarskel was Madeleine’s family, he was still new to me.

  I banged my head against the wall and closed my eyes. My left eye burned. The hollow sensation went through my skin and skull; a grim reminder of a simple reality.

  I wasn’t a peasant girl looking at a [Archon]. I wasn’t a [Cryotheurge].

  The Symphony around me came to its dull staccato, with the Major notes of the [Necromancer] creating a dirge of death. Long had the insects of my youth given away to the sounds of feasting and dying, and the sensations of cool winter breeze. The Minor notes of the [Chirurgeon] gave the clinical scent of wood vinegar – something I was excited to figure out about when I could play in Levan’s lab. The clinical sensation made everything feel so clean.

  And so exposed.

  The souls around me were fairly common and unimpressive. If I extracted them all now, I’d have a horde of common –.

  I shook that thought right off my head. That would require all of them to be massacred, extracted, processed, and then brought back… That wasn’t something I was actually interested in doing, outside of the stray consideration that it could be done.

  I listened to the Symphony, connecting my composition with the worlds. I removed the minor notes from my hearing, dropping away the small sounds of peasants.

  That thought, that word, burned into my skull.

  “One of them…”

  I inhaled. I would deal with that problem when I could, but right now…

  The only other luminescent soul near me was Tarskel. A [Bard], but I knew that. Though, what I didn’t realize was that he wasn’t lying about his last name - and he was actually, well..

  “You’re not actually Madeleine’s brother?!” I interrogated the liar.

  “Pardon? Oui…? We both already told you that…”

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  “Wait, then why are you fighting with Maddy?”

  Tarskel frowned at the question, and looked at my eyes. Shock formed and he dropped his playful demeanor; grabbing my face. His warm hands were pleasant, if a bit rugged. I wanted to melt into it – but at the same time?

  I slapped his face.

  His head didn’t move. My thin arm rested against his cheek for a moment longer, and I attempted to push myself off his grip. It didn’t work.

  His voice dropped into a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Demoiselle, not to alarm you, but your left eye is… how you say… brillant.”

  “Thank you, but it’s pronounced brilliant? Now, can you let me go?" I said, attempting to pull away again.

  “Non, non. Brillant comme...,” he released one hand, which let me immediately pull away from his hands. “A firefly!”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay?”

  “Is it supposed to.. Like a firefly?” he asked.

  “Glow,” I said the word and nodded, before turning my attention back to the door. Behind it, I felt a familiar presence.

  “Mr. De Constanze! It’s uh….”

  “Wait, is that Lady Hart?” Bart’s voice began from the other side. Footsteps moved away from the door.

  The crowd didn’t seem to stop shouting though, and with a response from the other side, it became louder and louder. I leaned into the door, putting my ear to the wood…

  Tarskel grabbed my shoulders quickly and pulled me back. I looked up at him, flailing my arms and sucking in air to get ready to shout.

  The door slammed open, and the most… indecorous looking woman lowered her foot, striking the heel against the stone. She was wearing a corset in black and gold, and her skirt seemed to be a mere suggestion at best! Her body was exaggerated, and the belts she wore on her hips just accented her curves. Of course there were some metal pipes latched to the belt.

  And the way she wore her jacket and hat! It was like she was pretending that it cost nothing!

  “Alright! You either have business with the Inquisition, and thus, a Sacrum-Venator, or you’re asking me to Hound you. If you ain’t here to repeat some whispering about a sin or calamity or witchcraft or even a simple hexing, get out.” She was stern, and her voice cut through the blabber of the crowd.

  The crowd, like me, just stared at her, which was either confusion, or just taking in the sight of a genuinely crazy woman, even by my standards!

  And I knew Melissa!

  “Amaril damn it,” she muttered, reaching to her belt, before attempting to pull out a tube. Bart immediately grabbed her arm, pulling it to the side.

  “Lady Belten! They aren’t going to know what that is,” Bart interjected, keeping his grip on her forearm. His fingers squeezed into her muscle while he tried to pull her back, but Lady Belten remained firmly in place.

  She finally released the metal tube and pushed Bart off, before raising her arms in defeat. “Fine! Can’t even do it the fun way now that pretty boy has an even higher standard!” she overdramatized.

  Honestly? She reminded me a lot like Jasmine. Wait, a combination of Melissa and Jasmine was terrifying.

  “The rest of you, get out unless you have actual business. The boy ain’t Amaril and he can’t bleed The Glare upon ye, now, get,” He waved his arms to the crowd, causing most of them to disperse. He then pointed at me, and by proxy Tarskel. “You, come in.”

  “Do you drink, Mr. Nicaea?” Adrian asked, pouring amber liquid into a glass tumbler. His hand closed, and it opened a moment later to drop a few ice cubes that clinked against the glass and bubbled. He poured more of it into a second glass, and pushed it towards me.

  “He means whiskey,” I helpfully added, taking the cup off the oak table. I brought it to my nose and inhaled the deep scent. It lingered in my nostrils, scratching the back of my throat before I started to cough.

  “I… am aware,” Tarskel said. “Neat, s’il vous pla?t.”

  Adrian poured the whiskey for Tarskel, but frankly, I didn’t care how Tarskel knew what Adrian was actually offering. I guess the alcohol thing was common knowledge.

  What I cared about was how different his symphony actually was.

  The Symphony wasn’t only magic, but a representation of a Composer’s connection to the world around. Ever since we were kids, Adrian and mine were always in dissonance. He would have sparrows chirping, hounds barking, and other insect-eating abominations. I was the purer one with the chirping of cicadas, singing of crickets, and the squirming of worms.

  Then, he had become the warmth of summer woven with the fresh air of a new harvest. It was intoxicating, but on brand.

  And I had become winter. Cold to the touch, the howling gale, the crisp loneliness when Amaril’s Gaze doesn’t shine upon you.

  This was warmth. The complete distillation of instruments of protection and heat – just warmth. His touch was intoxicating before, but to my cold melody, this new sensation felt euphoric.

  It felt wrong.

  My eyes narrowed reflexively. “What happened with ya, boy?”

  And my worst fears were confirmed.

  Adrian took a sip of his whiskey, before putting it back on the table. His brown eyes regarded me, and I could see his lips seal while he inhaled deeply through his nose. He exhaled softly, before giving the two of us a nod.

  “Lady Hart, I do appreciat–”

  “Knock that off, boy,” I growled. Tarskel took a sip of his whiskey, and curiously, playfully watched us both.

  “Lady Hart,” he repeated, his voice growing bolder. “I do appreciate you coming to visit.”

  Something about that smugness was infuriating. No. Not smugness – it was detachment. My fingers squeezed against the glass, as spiderwebs of frost coiled out. I couldn’t make myself speak.

  He wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Your Headmistress Ballory. I know it’s your first day back, but have you given any thoughts on how to talk to her?”

  Detachment. Distance.

  No polite tone, laughter, or jokes. My hand shook, but my eyes were locked with his.

  “Ah, fear not, [Archon]. If our petite demoiselle locks up again, I, Tarskel De La Nicae–” I raised my hand to interrupt Tarskel as he spoke.

  “What is wrong with you, Lord Skye?” I spat out.

  Finally, his eyes met mine. Not with concern. Not that puppy-dog begging for a scrap look he always had.

  Forced disinterest. The kind when someone tells you something bad about your hair, or the way you look – and you hold yourself together to not make a scene.

  Or when your friend says ‘I love you’, and you play dumb.

  “I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” he blurted out.

  Tarskel’s body heaved up, drawing in breath. Both of us quickly glanced at him, and he immediately downed the whiskey. “Another, [Archon]? Not often do I get to see Divinity and Romance.”

  Adrian’s eyes immediately shot down, but his face didn’t blush. His brows were furrowed, and his lips turned into a dark, annoyed scowl. He shook his head quickly, returning to that forced neutral he had.

  “There is no romance, Mister Nicaea. Lady Hart and I were just childhood friends, and while she is investigating Headmistress Ballory, it would be better if the person under our suspicion wasn’t aware she was working with the Inqui…” he stopped. He paused for a moment, mulling another sip while his stupid eyes thought. “With me.”

  “Oh, so it’s just temporary?” Tarskel needled.

  I waited for Adrian to respond, but he said nothing.

  I finally stood up, staring down at the man. “What is your problem?”

  “Nothing, Lady Hart,” he slowly responded, his gaze meeting mine. That forced distance. That manufactured apathy. “I just thi–”

  “Hogwash, Addy! What’s wrong?” I shouted.

  Adrian sighed, before looking at Tarskel. “Mr. Nicaea, would you mind leaving the room? I think this is a conversation for Lady Hart and I alone. I’m sure Lady Belten or Ms. Marigold out there would be more pleasant company than I.”

  “Nonsense, I am enj–” he tried.

  “Get out!” I shouted.

  Tarskel immediately stood up, and scampered out. That just left Addy and I in the inquisitional office.

  Alone.

  Together.