Erin Evans: The Adversary

“Wretched imp,” Sairché spat.

“ Adaestuo ,” Farideh said. The ball of burning energy collected between her fingers, swirled together and streaked across the distance, aimed straight at Sairché’s face.

It shattered an arm’s reach from the cambion, broken on a magical shield that flashed red and disappeared. Sairché clucked her tongue.

“Now, now,” she said. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“What does she mean?” Havilar asked. “What agreement?”

Farideh didn’t answer, all her swirling half thoughts colliding, landing together in a swarm. What other choice do you have? Sairché had said.

Cold horror poured down Farideh’s core.

“Fari?” Havilar demanded. “What does she mean? Fari, what have you done?”

27 Eleasias, the Year of the Dark Circle (1478 DR) Proskur

Farideh had been prepared for many things when Havilar asked to speak to her alone, just after they’d arrived in Proskur: Another appeal they take on a bounty on their own, without their absent foster father. An admission Havilar had been the one to start the tavern brawl that had chased them from the last waystation. Devils in the nighttime, urging Havilar to make a pact. Zhentarim. Cultists of the king of the Hells, out for revenge. There were so many possibilities, so many dangers to keep track of, that Farideh had stopped guessing by the time they sat down at the inn. She was ready for Havilar to say almost anything.

But not for Havilar to ask to switch bedrooms.

“You see Brin all day,” Farideh said, aware even as she did that she sounded childish.

Havilar pursed her lips a moment, her golden eyes locked on the heavily waxed surface of the table between them. “There’s things,” she said delicately, “you can’t do walking in the market or at a campsite with your sister.”

Farideh drew a breath, trying to slow the flush of blood creeping up her neck. “Right. I mean, I understand, how. . why you’re asking. I just. . Is it the best idea?”

Havilar wrinkled her nose. “Well, I think so. Obviously.” She scratched at the wax. “You’re making this sound like I’m asking if I can fight a pile of owlbears with my bare hands. It’s not a big deal. I’m not asking your permission, anyway.” She looked up at Farideh. “I don’t need permission.”

“Right,” Farideh replied, because she had no idea what to say. For the last two months, Havilar had been encouraging Brin, a young man they’d crossed paths with while they pursued a bounty to the city of Neverwinter. A young man, as it turned out, with a lot more to him than first appearances suggested.

“You know this isn’t going to last,” Farideh blurted.

“Of course I do,” Havilar said huffily.

“Because you seem like you’re getting awfully attached, and once we get to Suzail and rescue Mehen-”

“We can be attached, in the meantime. And when it’s over. .” She scraped more at the thick wax coating the table. “Anyway, it might not go all dire and pointed. You don’t know.”

“Brin’s in line to be the king of Cormyr,” Farideh said dropping her voice. “It doesn’t matter how much you love him, no one is going to let a tiefling be queen.”

“Too bad,” Havilar said with a grin. “I bet I’d look fantastic with a crown.”

“I’m serious. If we get to Cormyr and he sees everything he’s giving up-”

“He doesn’t want to be king,” Havilar said. “Or almost-king, or almostalmost-king. . or however you call it. So stop worrying about it until he does. Anyway, you’re one to talk. What am I always telling you but to get away from Lorcan before he corrupts you or snatches your soul or gets you hurt? And what do you say?” She shifted her voice, a mockery of her sister, “ ‘It’s fine. Nothing like that’s happened.’ And Brin isn’t remotely interested in my soul.”

Farideh pointedly did not glance across the room to where Lorcan- looking like nothing but a striking human man-lounged at another table. Watching. Waiting for Farideh to finish. The lines of the protective spell linking the two of them tugged on the nerves along her right side-the halfdevil had made a point of sitting at the very edge of its range. At the point where she couldn’t quite ignore him.

“We are not talking about Lorcan,” Farideh said. “But it brings up a good point-where’s he supposed to sleep?”

“You can take him.”

A blush forced itself up Farideh’s neck, into her cheeks. “ No .”

“Fine,” Havilar said. “Tell him to come down and sit in the taproom. You’ve made the spell stretch far enough, right? It’s not important where Lorcan stays.” She bit her lip. “It is important that you. . Look, I don’t care what you think about me and Brin.” She focused on the table again. “It’s just. .” She bit her lip again and added a little softer, “We’ve never slept apart, you and I, and I don’t want you to be angry about it.”

Farideh tried to imagine falling asleep, alone, without the sound of Havilar’s soft wheezing, without the weight of her sister beside her. One way or another, that night would come.

Better than having it happen because she tried to fight a pile of owlbears, Farideh thought. Or because some devil snatched her.

“It’s all right,” she said finally.

“Promise?”

“Yes. But you promise you’ll be careful. And promise you’re not going to tell me about it.”

Havilar looked crestfallen. “Not even a little?”

“I want to be able to look Brin in the face. So a very little.”

“All right,” Havilar sighed. “You have to promise not to tell Mehen, though. He’d probably get his lightning breath going for this.”

Farideh doubted she’d have to tell their adoptive father a thing-Havi and Brin were so obvious it was hard to be in the same space as them. And then Mehen would blame Farideh for not stopping Havilar from being infatuated with Brin in the first place. “As far as I’m concerned you and I were never once apart.”

Havilar grinned. “Perfect.”

Lorcan tipped his chair back, and the spell’s lines yanked again, hard enough Farideh drew a sharp breath. She glared across the room at him, and he scowled back. Stop it, she mouthed. Lorcan stood and started toward them.

Havilar was looking past her, up at the stairs, the way Brin had gone when they’d returned from their errands. “Is it harder to be good at, do you think, than, say, killing orcs and things?”

Farideh’s blood rose in her cheeks. “I suspect it’s different.”

“The first time I killed someone I threw up,” Havilar admitted. She looked back at her sister. “ Four times.”

“I don’t think you’ll throw up.”

“If I do, I’m going to tell you whether you want to hear it or not,” Havilar cautioned, as she stood. “You deserve the warning.”

Havilar glared at Lorcan as he came to stand beside the table. He smiled back at her, pleasant as could be, but in those black, black eyes was something sharp as razors.

“Well met,” he said. “What have you two been talking about?”

Havilar gave Farideh a look that said Farideh ought to be just as careful-if not more so-turned on her heel, and headed up the stairs. Lorcan chuckled watching her go. He looked down at Farideh.

“Well,” he said, appraising her face and no doubt the high color of her cheeks. “I have to assume it was something. . interesting. What did she want?”

Farideh hesitated. “Your half of Brin’s room.”

Lorcan gave a low throaty laugh. “Well that is interesting. What is she going to trade me?”