“You like him.”
Micah’s ears turned red.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Viv said to Micah’s back, then let Sasha hold the mug to her lips. The tea was ordinary, just some rose hips and maiden’s tears peel with medicinal bark, but the throbbing in her head went away almost immediately, and her hands were barely shaking when she took a second draught. “You’ll have to show me how to make this.”
“Sure.” Micah still hadn’t turned around. “Is it working? It helps me if I forget to eat.”
“You do that a lot?” Sasha looked him up and down.
“It’s not important when you’re working.”
“Pretty sure it is, but all right.”
“Sit down on the bed and stop acting like a virgin on his wedding night,” Viv snapped, and Micah turned, his face blotchy with an uneven blush. He walked woodenly to the bed and sat down, glancing back and forth between Viv and the mug. “I’m fine. I’ve been sick since I was a child—it comes and goes.”
“Oh.” Micah twisted the hem of his tunic. He was always doing something with his hands, it seemed. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. But I need to say something before I forget. Micah. You were looking into the spring for a while, right? Did you see anything in it? Anything strange?”
“Strange how?”
“Like a face. My face, made out of stone. I could have sworn it was there before I fell—damn!” Viv threw her hands up as Sasha fumbled the tea, spilling it over the blankets. He twitched the bedding away and set the mug down before getting up to grab a fur from the couch. “Sasha?”
“About that.” Sasha looked troubled, which only ever happened when his grandmother was sick or Viv had a dizzy spell. Viv frowned at him, and he spread the fur over her legs before he continued. “There was something in the woods today. It was wearing your face.”
“What?” Viv clutched the soft fur. Sasha wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. “Something like a spirit, or magic, or…”
“I don’t know. It looked like you, but it wasn’t you. Walked strange, smiled strange. I almost had it, but when I got there it was just… sticks and shit. Nothing like you at all.”
“And the face in the spring was made of stone.” Viv looked down at her hands. Why was something wandering around looking like her? What did it mean? “I’ve never heard of anything like this, but then… we know a man who can turn into a wolf. Maybe there are other things out there.”
“If it’s after you, it can fuck right off,” Sasha said, and Viv smiled at the heat in his voice.
“There’s the fox-maiden.” Micah’s face was paler than usual. “But she only comes in winter. Could there be another witch? Someone who knows you, who’s… making things?”
“You’re the only other witch I know.” Viv immediately regretted her words as Micah’s face fell. “No, I don’t think it’s you. Calm down.”
“But if magic can come out of me when I’m emotional—”
“A working like that would have drained you, and you’d notice. Trust me.” Viv patted his knee, and when Micah closed his eyes at the touch, she left her hand there. For a man who hid himself away, he seemed desperate for contact. “I’ll see if I can search for this, if I have time. Maybe I can try to cast a fortune for it.”
She doubted that would help. The fortune-telling spells she attempted for her own life usually ended poorly.
“And we can ask my nan about any spirits she knows that fuck around with other people’s faces.” Sasha picked up the mug again, and Viv was just able to take it from him on her own. “My nan knows everything about the Compound. She’s the oldest of the Black family.”
“It’s how we’re organized in the Compound,” Viv explained to Micah. “I’m from the Red family. When the Compound was made, everyone was split into different sections and given names based on what they were in the empire. Guards were Black, witches were Red, criminals were Gray, and political prisoners were White. Then we all married each other, and it didn’t matter so much anymore. Some people changed their names a little, calling themselves Crimson or Silver, but it’s all the same.”
“I would’ve been a Red when I married Viv, but she wanted my name.”
“That all sounds… complicated.” Micah looked genuinely confused. “Sobriquets are simpler.”
Viv shrugged and set the mug down. “Maybe. Micah, if Sasha talks to his grandmother, she’ll insist on coming over. Will you be okay?”
Micah blushed again. “It’s your house.”
“Will you. Be. Okay.”
Micah narrowed his eyes, and when he spoke, his dominance was almost as strong as Viv’s. “It’s. Your. House.”
