9. Mundane Mortal Tasks

"Ronin, a witch?" Avi laughed, turning away to grab a dish towel and wipe down the bar. "I mean, the guy is quiet and mysterious to most, but I think my best friend would tell me if he could do magic."

It was an indirect answer.

The light, comfortable air between them transitioned into an awkward, unsettled one she couldn't make sense of. Was her question too personal, or did he avoid her because he was a terrible liar?

"Anyways, is it your first time in the city?" he asked, tone too eager to change the subject.

It only amped her suspicions. Though, she allowed the topic to be dropped and mindlessly gave him short word replies to his poor attempt to hold the world's most strained conversation.

If Ronin were truly a mage, how would it affect her?

For starters, she wouldn't have to worry about his life during their escapade for her freedom. He could protect himself, and that alone eased a bit of her guilt.

The latter could mean she was in danger. With the enmity Ronin held towards deities, he'd take the first opportunity to hurt her once he figured out what she was.

It didn't feel right to think that way. A deep part of her believed Ronin's intentions were good—honorable even. She was compelled to continue trusting in him, despite her logic and reasoning not to.

Naia picked at the last of her pancakes, reluctant not to scarf the rest down for the sake of having something to fixate her attention. The idea of sitting with nothing in front of her, with nothing to do, was painful.

"Hola!" A woman with bright pink hair, the shade of a coral reef, and a vivacious personality skipped through the entrance. The second her eyes found Naia, she beamed with a frightening level of excitement. She wore what appeared to be a scrap of fabric over her breasts, loose trousers, and stocky boots.

"Hi! I'm Violet. I love your hair." She reached out and shook Naia's hand with the vigor of a candy-induced child.

Naia flinched at the sudden touch, dropping her head to hide her reaction. Her hair slid down her shoulders. "Thanks. I'm Naia."

A short, lanky male passed by them to get behind the counter. His shaggy brunette curls stuck up in every direction, and the glint of an eyebrow piercing poked from beneath his messy bangs. He came across as reserved and vigilant as he not-so-subtly eyed Naia.

"That's Noah." Violet took the stool beside her. "Anyway, are you a friend of Aviel's?"

"No, I came here with Ronin." Naia refixed her attention onto her food, pretending to count how many more bites she had left while digesting Avi was short for Aviel.

Avi slapped a hand on his large chest. "Wow, I'm hurt. You don't consider me a friend?"

Violet rolled her eyes, her neon purple lips stretching into a smile. "So, you are a friend of Ronin's then?"

Naia nodded, chewing her bite of pancake.

"Cool. Are you from the city? I doubt it, since we know all his friends here."

Naia wiped the syrup from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "No, I am not from here."

Avi quickly typed over the screen of his phone. "Noah, go flip the open sign on."

The man paused slicing limes at the end of the bar and sauntered around tables to do as he was instructed.

"I guess it's time to get to work." Violet hopped off the stool, twisting her torso to glance back at Naia. "Are you hanging around for a bit?"

"Yes, until Ronin is done with his business."

"Yay!" Violet chirped, bouncing around behind the bar.

Avi locked his phone and slid it into his back pocket. "Naia, do you want another beer? Might as well take advantage of Ronin's nice hospitality."

"Sure." Naia slid her empty glass across the bar for him to refill.

The hours went by unexpectedly quick. Naia spent most of it observing Avi, Violet, and Noah work the brunch chaos. People poured into the brewery within five minutes of opening. Naia sat shoulder to shoulder with individuals at the bar, gritting her teeth when they occasionally brushed against her arm. The tables filled inside the brewery and outside. Naia was utterly amazed by the pace and skill it took Noah, Violet, and Avi to keep up. They did it with such ease, and Naia couldn't help but marvel at them.

Ronin eventually appeared and silently beckoned her to follow him to his car.

Naia stared through her window, chasing the sunspots glaring off the passing vehicles and building windows.

"Avi mentioned you ate the pancakes," Ronin said. "Did you like them?"

They were stopped in the middle of a street, something Naia assumed wasn't abnormal, considering the other vehicles beside them were doing the same thing. She guessed it had something to do with the bright red light pointed at them.

She crossed her arms. "I suppose I can admit the food at your brewery isn't too terrible."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him crack half a smile.

The light turned green, and he sped forward. "The pancakes were my father's recipe."

"He had an exceptional palate. The sweetness wasn't lacking whatsoever."

"So you like sweet things." With one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his leg, he gave her a sidelong glance. "What's your favorite?"

She unfolded her arms, beaming. "There are too many to pick only one. I am a fan of all baked goods, I guess you could say. Cakes, muffins, pastries," she listed using her fingers. "Sourdough, focaccia, brioche…"

"Carbs then," Ronin grinned. "You sound like my mom. She loved making strawberry cake or malasadas every weekend."

Naia conjured up an endearing image of Yuki and Ronin as children gawking over a countertop in anticipation for a sugary treat.

"Was your father fond of sweets?" she asked.

His expression went vacant as he peered through the windshield. "No."

Naia rolled her lips, listening to the cracking of his knuckles against the steering wheel.

From what she'd pieced together, it couldn't have been long since his father's funeral, since it was the reason Ronin was on the island. He was currently grieving the loss of his father, and she'd completely forgotten.

She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her fingernails in her lap. "Where are we going?"

Ronin pulled into a parking lot and shut the car off. "We're here."

Naia lifted her head, scanning the lot and the large building at its end. "Where are we?"

"A grocery store." Ronin exited the car. "I haven't been home in a week."

She hopped out as well.

Mortals sauntered in and out of automatic sliding glass doors. Exiting the store, a woman with a messy ponytail struggled to calm her wailing child in the cart. A couple walked side by side, their arms tightly interlocked, supporting brown paper sacks in their free hands. The entryway was abuzz with a family of six, as four young children jostled for space.

There was something incredibly mundane about trailing alongside Ronin, scouring the large aisles. The shelves were filled with a dizzying array of products, blurring together as she whizzed by. Her shoulder knocked into a man browsing the many choices of beans—pinto, black, red, kidney.She mumbled an apology and extended her stride to keep up with Ronin as he wheeled their cart down the next aisle.

He grabbed two bags of white rice and chucked them in.

"How, um…" Naia mentally ran through her words, but there was no way to phrase it without appearing strange.

Giving up, she exhaled. "I've never been grocery shopping before. How does it work?"

He paused in the middle of the aisle to look back at her.

A long second passed with him staring, doing the thing where his eyes scoured her face for any traces of her thoughts.

"We pick the items we want and then pay." He rotated towards the front of the store and gestured to where several people lined up at what appeared to be a series of registers. Some didn't even have staff standing behind them. The customers were scanning their own groceries and paying through a machine.

A simple process, then.

Naia averted her gaze onto the open freezer compartment in the middle of the aisle stocked full of frozen fish filets, her mind jumping to one thing.

"Where do they keep the pastries?"

He smiled as he started off in a direction. "This way."

Naia walked at his side, aware of the proximity between them, making sure their arms didn't accidentally touch.

"Have you ever had cream puffs?" he asked.

With a shake of her head, she gracefully sidestepped a woman in a motorized vehicle cruising down the lane.

"I think you'd enjoy them." Ronin stopped and lifted his hand from the cart. "Care to take over for me? I need to grab a few loaves."

"Sure."

He surfed his arm above her head and crossed into an aisle stocked from top to bottom with loaves of bread.

Clutching onto the handle, warm from his palms, Naia meticulously surveyed the items in the cart, acknowledging her new role as the guardian of these belongings, determined not to lose track of them, even if a captivating distraction emerged.

Ronin placed the bread in the cart and strolled ahead.

Naia followed. Driving the cart was fun. Being in control of something, choosing the speed and which route to take when rounding a person idle in the walkway.

She stuck close to Ronin, cursing under her breath every time he halted in front of her and came close to scuffing his heels.

Ronin stopped abruptly to glance back at a row of freezers, and Naia failed to brake in time, ramming the end of the cart into the back of his thighs. He scuffed forward on his feet.

She tensed, preparing herself for a haughty reaction. "I apologize, I?—"

Ronin turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, grinning. "You're a terrible driver."

The muscles in her shoulders relaxed. "You give no warning when you are about to stop!"

"I'll be sure to install brake lights for your convenience."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring her own broad smile.

Ronin plucked a pint of something from one freezer and put it in the cart. Strawberry ice cream.

She raised her brows. "I thought you hated sweets."

"Call it grief therapy," he said.

The playfulness swiftly died in Naia's expression as she grimaced.

"I'm sorry I brought him up earlier," she said.

Ronin's shoulders slightly jerked up in a lazy shrug. "Not your fault, so don't apologize. The waves of grief come and go. Today just happens to be a shit day from it."

Sheepishly, Naia moved her hand up to push her strands over her shoulder, looking anywhere but him. "Anything is better than laying around in your bed all day, the way I did when my father…" She bit down on the tip of her tongue, realizing she'd shared too much.

Hesitantly, she brought her gaze back to Ronin.

He tilted his head, implying his curiosity, with a soft tilt to the corner of his eyes. "We can share it." He gestured to the pint of ice cream with a subtle lift of his chin. "There is no way in hell I'll eat the whole thing. Besides, I'll feel like total shit afterwards, and I'll be counting on you to convince me I'm not total garbage for drowning my sorrows in sugar."

She matched his gentle smile and nodded. "Very well. Can't let a good carton of ice cream go to waste."

Together, they continued down the path of the main aisle.

Naia assessed the quality of a head of lettuce, debating whether there was a true difference between Romaine and iceberg.

"What do you like to eat other than sweets and bread?"Ronin asked, picking through a bin of carrots and tossing the most edible looking ones in a frail plastic bag.

She dropped the lettuce head back in the bin and moved back to the cart, gripping her damp palms around the handle. "I eat seafood mostly, but I've always wondered what a cow steak tastes like."

Ronin's arm slid behind her to toss the vegetables in the cart, the inside of his forearm lingering close to hers.

"Steak it is, then."She felt the warmth of his breath tickle the side of her neck as he spoke.

Naia set her jaw to suppress her shiver. An odd desire welled up within her, compelling her to lean back as an excuse for her to touch him. But she was too hyper fixated on the potential awkwardness if her backside were to press against the front of his body.What reaction would it elicit from him?

Through her dry mouth, she quipped, "Do you even know how to prepare a steak?"

"Do I ever?" He snorted. "You're gonna eat those words later."

"Doubtful."

"Do you know how to cook?"

She twisted her head around, offended. At least, until she noticed the minuscule gap between them. "Of course."

He smirked. "Like what?"

She stumbled on her words, distracted by the stray pieces of hair swooping down the sides of his face, and the rich mahogany shade of his irises gleaming at her.

"I've cooked fish plenty of times." And would have accidentally murdered my entire family from it had they not been deities.

"Let's see your skills, then. Help me cook dinner tonight."

She marched ahead without him, pretending to know which way she was going. "Fine, but we're getting my cream puffs first."

Ronin strolled behind her. "You've never even tried them before."

"You claim I will enjoy them, and I am determined to prove you wrong in something."

He chuckled.

Five minutesinto the drive to Ronin's apartment, Naia had devoured the entire box. The desserts were a devilish size, making it impossible to only eat one or two.

She continued to snack as Ronin drove in the heavy flow of traffic with ease. As he did so, she learned how fond she found his concentrated face to be—eyes squinted and the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips.It was cute, and a new side of him she hadn't seen.

The tunnel they entered seemed to stretch infinitely. Headlights flickered on through the warm glow. Something about the atmosphere made Naia want to roll her window down and hold her arm out to encompass the feeling.

The sky was dark as they emerged from the tunnel, casting an eerie shadow on this part of the city. Unlike the modern and stylish establishments on the other side of town, the ones here lacked charm. Against the horizon, the skyscrapers jutted out like menacing teeth, casting a dark and ominous presence. They stood tall and smooth, their surfaces reflecting the blinking light on polished obsidian.

Ronin rounded a sharp curve, and the streets narrowed.

He flipped his blinker on and turned left off the road, before coming to a stop in front of an iron gate. He rolled his window down, inviting in a chilly current, and entered a code on a touch screen pad attached to the stone.

The enormous gates yawned apart and Ronin drove through.

In front of the paved curb, he parked by an old oak tree, its gnarled roots visible in the soil.

They both exited the car.

Hanging back her head, Naia took in the towering apartment complex. The building's design reached for the sky with sweeping height and sharp, symmetrical contours—a midnight pike piercing the slate-gray sky.

"You coming?" Ronin waited a few paces ahead for her, arms full of the groceries he'd purchased.

She started towards him.

When they reached the entrance of the building, Naia saw the blossomed violet dahlias alongside the sidewalk Ronin had told her about. Her father entered her thoughts, and a deep ache spread through her chest like a gaping chasm.

Balancing a box of what was left of her desserts, and a brown paper sack in her arms, she came to a halt, spellbound by the velvety dark flowers standing out against the onyx backdrop of the building, swimming in that chasm of grief.

Naia's attention shifted to Ronin, holding the door open with the toe of his shoe.

His gaze, soft and knowing, met hers, as if he recognized the deep void she had briefly been trapped in and pulled herself out of.He made her feel understood, and she did not need to apologize or make up an excuse for her sadness.

She breezed past him and glided into the sterile lobby atmosphere. They moved deeper inside its pristine glass walls and polished floors. Ronin led her into a contraption in the wall with automatic doors and several rows of buttons with numbers beside them.Above it read: elevator.

Ronin reached out and pressed a button. As the contraption elevated, Naia felt a slight shift in gravity beneath her feet. Her stomach dropped, and she had the urge to grab onto something.

The doors slid apart and revealed a long hallway. The wall was split between white on one side and a tinted shade of glass on the other, overlooking the city.

Naia stumbled a little on her feet from the view. This side of the city had a sinister feel, with a metallic hue covering the land like a veil.

Magic.

The apartment complex was a stark opposite from the run-down beach cottage his sister and niece lived in.

Ronin entered a passcode beneath the door handle on a keypad.

A click reverberated, and they stepped inside.

Ronin kicked his shoes off at the entrance and slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers.

Naia respectfully slid her sandals off and lingered at the entrance, greeted by the sweet scent of jasmine and the pungent aroma of sage.

His apartment was a studio floor plan with a minimalist atmosphere. A kitchen on one side of the open room, and a black couch and large glass box that seemed to be another kind of technological device on the other. Near the kitchen, there was a sliding glass door that opened onto a balcony. Hidden behind a large bookshelf was a king-size mattress stacked on a frameless platform. Taking a step further inside, she noticed a nearby door she assumed led to a bathroom.

Ronin placed the bags on the island in the center of the kitchen and then emptied his pockets on a small table near the sliding glass door.

"So." He spun around to Naia, a twinkle in his eyes. "What's the verdict on those cream puffs?"

She gave him a deadpan look, choosing to bite through her tongue than ever admit he was right.

Two secondsinto cutting the carrots and Naia sliced the tip of her finger clean off.

Luckily, Ronin had slipped away to use the restroom.

She rummaged through his kitchen drawers for a dishrag, hands shaking, and tightly wrapped the cloth around her wound to prevent the blood from spilling onto the countertops. Battling through a dizzy spell, she was determined to scrub the granite countertop with her uninjured hand before Ronin reappeared. She darted back and forth from the sink to dispose of any proof she'd cut herself—throwing away the heaping piles of paper towels and the dishrag she'd used to staunch the bleeding.

By the time he returned, her wound had sealed up. With determination, she continued chopping carrots at her post, her teeth clenched to steady herself.

One job.It was her one job.Cut them into semi-thick slices.

"You're moving too quickly," Ronin said from the side.

She looked at him, the movement jostling her silver strands over her shoulder, not sure what to do with his words.

"May I?" He gestured to the knife in her grasp with the click of his eyes. "I'll show you if you'll let me."

His words momentarily transported her back to a time when she had heard that exact phrase uttered by someone else.

Breathe.

Nod.

She passed him the knife.

He maneuvered behind her, his arms coming around hers, and gently, his palm rested down on the back of her hand. Their fingers intertwined to where they both gripped the handle of the knife.

"Make sure you have a firm grip. You don't want your finger to slip and end up in the blade's path." His breath tangled in her hair, tickling the shell of her ear.

He positioned her free hand on the carrot and curled her fingers to grip the slick vegetable. A shiver wracked through her.

They began chopping the carrot at an angle, unhurried and precise, opposed to the straight-down method Naia was using before.

"Cutting is repetitive. Eventually you find your rhythm," he explained. "If you make horizontal slices, it prevents the carrots from shooting across the counter."

Gradually, his grip loosened, giving her more control to set the pace. Concentrated, she mirrored the distance between her fingertips, keeping the carrot in place and the blade.

The top of her arms, the back of her hands, her shoulder blades—she felt him everywhere. It was the first time she'd been touched without flinching. The first time her body forgot the scars it wore.

His fingers twitched against hers, and his breath splayed against the side of her neck. His touch awakened the same persistent need she had felt back at the grocery store, urging her to ease into him. She could sense the promise of peace within it, like she'd fought her whole life and could find rest within him.

She thought back on all the times she'd winced when someone unexpectedly touched her. How was this time any different?

May I? She replayed his request.

He'd asked her first.

Naia swallowed, unable to control the way her muscles relaxed in her shoulders as they came down from her ears to rest against his chest. She could feel his quickened heartbeat against the back of her ribcage—proof she affected him as well.

She bit her bottom lip back to keep from frowning when they ran out of carrot to chop.

Her disappointment swiftly morphed into revulsion—with her body and its traitorous reaction to drop its defenses.

It had been nearly a century since she shared space with another.

Ronin removed his hands from hers and floated between marinating the slabs of raw meat to checking on the potatoes roasting in the oven.

Naia started on the next carrot.

"You find joy in cooking," she said.

He rinsed rice in the sink, his long sleeves rolled up to his forearm. "Yeah, I find it relaxing."

Naia couldn't possibly understand his logic, given if she was a mortal, she'd be in the emergency room right now, getting the tip of her finger sewed back on. Their fragility genuinely stressed her out.

"You come home from a long day of work and find joy in cooking?" she asked, to be sure she understood.

"I used to cook with my mom when I was younger. I didn't want to, thinking it would be boring, but when I was nine, I had a traumatic accident. I wasn't in a good mental headspace, so she taught me to shut my brain off and move my hands. It was a way to heal."

Heal.

The word dissolved straight through Naia and settled in the pit of her soul. The concept was alien and struck her with pure curiosity as she reverted to his mention of trauma.

"Did it work?" she asked.

He shut the water off and dried his hands. "Yeah, I learned if I don't make the time to slow my thoughts and allow myself to process the trauma, it will plague me."

Like a blight.

Naia gripped the handle of the knife tighter. She'd spent lifetimes corralling her darkest memories and shutting them away. Submissive to the fear of reliving the suffering they'd brought her, while doing nothing to mend herself.

"I can teach you how to cook if you'd like?" Ronin prompted.

She lifted her head up to look at him. His invitation was as if he were tossing her a lifeline to grab onto.

"Yes," she said. "I'd love that."

During dinner,Naia mentally noted the juicy, savory seasonings of the steak, and how it practically fell apart in her mouth. Blended with the sweet glaze on the carrots and the palate refresher which the rice provided, the dinner was wonderful.

They cleaned the kitchen at a comfortable pace with the sound of music playing in the background, from what Ronin referred to as a sound system. Apparently, the music fed from his phone to the speaker. The way the music magically transferred to the speaker had enough merit to make him a witch, but his excuse was something called Bluetooth.

They went their separate ways afterwards.

She enjoyed the hot water of the shower beating against her scalp.

After an hour of basking in the steamed bathroom, she emerged to find Ronin unfolding a quilt on the couch.

"You can have the bed," he told her.

He wore sweatpants baggy in the crotch area, and a loose t-shirt that hid his lean physique. Similar to the one he gave her to sleep in. The hem of his shirt came to the tops of her thighs, but thankfully, he'd given her a pair of leggings, as if he knew her height in the shirt would barely cover her skin.

Naia worked her wet hair into a bun and said, "No, you can have it. I'll take the couch."

He strolled into his kitchen and dug around in a cupboard. "It's fine. Really."

When he reappeared, she noted the lasting dark circles around his eyes, and the glass vial in his hand.His hair was down for once. Black strands framing his face.

Ronin slid open the glass door, flipped the light on, and stepped out onto a small balcony, beckoning Naia to follow with a slight movement of his head.

She secured her bun with Wren and padded across the room.

They were stories high and beyond them was the city in the thicket of the night.

Chills zipped down Naia's spine, feeling too exposed in the darkness this way. Marina could materialize from it at any moment.

Ronin leaned his arms on the railing and uncorked the vial.

Naia occupied the space beside him and directed her attention to the glass tube. "What is that?"

"A sleep tonic," he said, then took a swig. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swung his head back.

Mage.

"Crafted by your hand?" Naia asked as casually as she could force it out.

"Nah, my mom."

Right.Naia remembered Yuki and Akane mentioning at the festival their mother crafted herbal remedies.

Naia studied him closely as he peered out into the blinking lights of the city. She sensed he was somewhere deep inside his head.

What did she need long ago during those delicate days after losing her father?

Nothing more than for someone to talk to.

Turning to face the midnight city, she asked, "How did he die?"

Ronin sighed. "My mom passed away about a year ago. They'd been together their whole lives. I guess you could say it was a broken heart. We knew he wouldn't last long without her."

Naia's heart pinched. "You have my sincerest condolences. That is truly terrible."

"What?" Ronin looked at her, the dim light casting over his face. "Love?"

"Yes. Tragic, more like."

"To grieve yourself to death because you lost the one who you held closest to your heart? Some would argue it's romantic."

Naia scowled, despite agreeing. "Idiots."

Ronin chuckled. "I actually agree with you."

His response was the perfect opportunity for her to push a little deeper. "Is that why you're forcing a tonic down your throat to sleep?"

His eyes flashed to her, his expression shifting more somber.

He didn't reply.

"You seemed capable during our travels." She pointed out with the memory of him lounging back leisurely on the train seat.

"It's not that I can't fall asleep, it's that I don't want to. If I do, I'll dream of them, and when I wake up, I'll have to process they're both dead all over again."

A pang of guilt shot through Naia. She was disgusted with herself for pushing him to spill his truth, and for taking advantage of his grief out of selfish intent.

Truth was, she understood where he came from, and, even worse, empathized with him. A feeling that was the bridge to caring. She refused to walk across it, because once she crossed that bridge, caring ultimately led to growing attached.

But she couldn't stop herself as she asked,"You don't want to be inside your own head, then?"

Ronin stared down at the vial in his hands. "Something like that."

Her heart pinched at the sound of his voice growing small. "I've experienced the feeling multiple times in my life," she told him.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "What did you do about it?"

Memories of her darkest moment flooded her mind, and a bitter pain staked in her chest.

"I laid awake and prayed for the High God of Death and Curses to take my life."

Unintelligible to a mortal unfamiliar with eternal life. The suffocating silence never yielded. Her thoughts were veiled with centuries of memories, locking away the good ones and leaving only the unpleasant ones at the forefront. She could slit her wrists to end the agony, but her skin would simply stitch itself back up. Death was a way of escaping, and it was not a luxury granted to the will of deities.

"And when he didn't come?" Ronin asked.

"I tried to escape." She managed a strained curve of her lips to dilute the heaviness of the subject. The last thing she desired was to discuss her past.

She gestured to the half empty vial dangling in between his fingers with her gaze. "Your mother made the tonic?"

"She made tons of shit for all sorts of ailments and other illnesses. Back home, she had the locals dropping by daily to refill their supply of medicinal cures."

Naia enjoyed the way his voice grew nostalgic as he spoke of her. She almost didn't have the heart to take advantage of the tender moment.

"Sounds like she would have made a decent witch."

"Probably." There was a curtness beneath his tone, evaporating its usual casualness that exploited a taut nerve.

Naia was no longer teetering on the line of whether he hid something. She felt it strongly in her gut. After the way Avi reacted to her question earlier, and the way Ronin's residence was clearly on the side of the city with magic seeping in its air.

If he was a witch, what did he want from her?

If she were bold enough, she might've asked. But then what? Where would she go? She had nobody to turn to until she found Finnian. She peered out across the massive concrete jungle, debating her odds of finding him on her own.

Naia felt Ronin staring and rotated her head.He was quiet as his gaze bore into hers, penetrating so deep, it was as if his hands reached into her soul and tugged.

It made the perfect opportunity for him to draw attention to a topic they'd skirted around. Yet, he did not.

After all his kindness, why lie? It infuriated her to toggle back and forth, trying to decide if his intentions were honorable or deceptive.

But what about you? Her inner consciousness taunted. You are deceiving him as well.

She squeezed her hands into fists, annoyed with herself.

The tension between them was like a stiff blanket wrapped around her. She couldn't handle it any longer.

"Let me be clear." She inhaled a strangled breath to calm her frustration. "I am only using you. I can figure things out on my own, but I'm tired—extremely tired of persistently doing things alone, therefore I need your help to find Finnian. Whatever you want in return, it's yours once it is done."

With an infuriatingly relaxed expression, he shrugged. "Who says I want anything?"

They always do.

She glared at him, as if the look could demand him to answer truthfully. "Why else would you be helping me?"

He straightened up from the rail and shifted his body to face her. "Because you said you needed it."

After a long life of walking alongside those who did not care, it was hard to believe Ronin was any different. To assume he had an ulterior motive was easier, because she'd allowed herself to walk down roads believing in people who only left her disappointed in the end.

If he was merely a kind-hearted mortal trying to help her, she wanted to give him another chance to kick her out of his life.

"I am using you," she said, harder this time. "That is all."

"Use me then." One corner of his mouth slid up. "I don't mind."

She wanted to punch him.

It felt as if she had swallowed melted tree sap, warming her chest the longer he looked at her with that damned twinkling gleam in his eyes.

Naia crossed her arms to shield herself. She hated how exposed she felt under his gaze. As if he could read every small shift of her expression and body language with a natural talent that made absolutely no sense. "You are painstakingly irritating."

A low laugh rumbled from him, and he put the vial to his mouth and gulped down the rest of the tonic.

"What made you decide to open a brewery?" she asked, desperate to change the subject.

"I had to make a living somehow." He shifted in his stance, pieces of his strands catching in the breeze and splicing across his face. He stared down at the empty glass vial between his fingers. "Turns out I'm good with business."

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Do you really make Avi clean mildew tubes?"

Ronin laughed louder this time, the sound smooth and humming through Naia's bones. "Shithead annoys us most days. We like to remind him of his place."

She couldn't help but smile. "That is awful."

"I'm just kidding. Avi's oddly good at the job." Ronin slipped the empty vial away in his pocket and licked his lips, creating a shine over their rosy color. "And the tubes don't have mildew in them. That's why he cleans them."

Naia uncrossed her arms and joined her hands on top of the railing. "These tubes are used to brew beer?"

He rubbed his shoulder, peeking over at her. "Yeah, and then the beer is transported to local grocery stores and bars. If tomorrow wasn't my day off, I'd show them to you."

At the mention of tomorrow, Solaris invaded her thoughts.Could she continue to remain hidden from those who hunted her? The charity event was a little under a week away, and her faith in lasting that long was slim.

I'm in Hollow City.Fullof mages. Deities would be leery if they entered the city. And who was to say Marina or Mira had even found her yet?

"We need to keep a close eye on our surroundings," she added on a more serious note. "In case I am found again."

"I knew it." Ronin playfully flicked Wren's tassel behind her ear. "You're totally a convict."

Naia rolled her eyes, bringing her hand up to itch the tickle on her neck. "I am no such thing."

His smile deepened, bunching his cheeks. "We're gonna get ambushed in the middle of the night by the fucking black ops."

"You're right," she said in dry sarcasm, a small smile playing on her lips. "I am so dangerous that the top tier of the military is tracking me down. Expect them to burst into your apartment, guns blazing."

He chuckled.

She tucked a strand of her fluttering hair behind her ear as the playful moment passed into a comfortable silence.

Their conversation on the train slipped into her thoughts, and how he had said he wasn't willing to be real with her if she couldn't answer any of his questions. She blamed the lingering warmth still humming throughout her veins in response to him. Undeniably so, the feeling had her considering spilling her truths.

"If I told you I have a complicated past…" Her pulse quickened and she rolled her lips. "What would you do?"

He remained still, quiet.

A long second passed.

She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes, a pool of familiar glitter, as if he had waited for her to ask.

"I'd say you fit right in here in Hollow City."