"Itil, itil, tinoqī, umma arammākani…" Aphora crooned softly as the babe fussed in her arms. Magic could dispel many hardships of raising an infant. A bout of colic could be healed with a touch, cleaning could be accomplished just as easily, and she never needed to wonder if the child was hungry. Yet even magic could not prevent a baby from crying sometimes.

She rocked him back and forth, gently rubbing his tiny back until his whimpers ceased and his eyes fluttered shut. Slipping him into his cradle without waking him was a delicate task, but eventually she had him safely cocooned beneath the brightly, if erratically, decorated blanket Qas̆pa had helped sew. "Sleep well, my little prince."

Aphora lingered over his crib a moment longer; she was reluctant to leave, but knew she had to. For weeks, she had been preparing her expedition to save the elves in Dūr-Adû. Nearly two hundred of her own people had volunteered and, with Tesha's permission, she'd managed to recruit nearly four hundred of the Fey - although, unlike her own people, she needed to open up her pursestrings to coax them to help her. Fey didn't work for free.

But now that they were on the cusp of action, Imḫullu had stopped answering her messages. She'd tried being patient but two days had passed without word and, well, patience had never been one of her virtues.

Heading back to her suites, Aphora closed the doors and windows before retrieving the token Imḫullu had given her to activate a portal in case of emergencies. True, it wasn't quite an emergency, but if he wouldn't respond to her, then what else could she do? A small pulse of essence was all it took to activate the charm, and she stepped back as the strange, triangular portal he used flickered to life, its golden glow flooding the room.

The other side was much as she remembered. The mostly dark room, lit only by the narrow paneled lights embedded in the walls and floor was nearly as cold as winter, no doubt thanks to the massive wall of windows that showed the dead city below. As always, she paused to look at it, curiosity gnawing at her stomach despite her better judgment.

The city was so unlike those she knew, with its thousands of unbelievably tall towers, crafted of steel and glass and brutality. There was a wild, brooding beauty to it, as if the city itself emanated a sense of intense loneliness. It was a city built for millions and, yet, she was unsure if any living remained in its bosom. Worse, she could only imagine how its loss must affect him, no matter how Imḫullu tried to play it off when she asked. But she could understand.

After all, she had lost a city, too, along with a mother, a father, and nearly all of her people.

Yet, Imḫullu was a closed book on the matter, utterly unwilling to discuss it with her, to let her ease the pain she knew he must bear. Her only hope was that he'd be at least willing to speak with Karī, once their son was old enough to understand, but if not…

She tore her eyes away from the city reluctantly, still gripped by the impulse to break through the glass and go exploring. There would be so much to see, so much to find…She blinked as she realized she was not alone.

A woman stood in the doorway, her features barely lit up by the dim panels of the room. She had shortish blonde hair, barely past her chin in length, and bright violet eyes that glowed as fiercely as enchanted orbs. Her clothing was strange, a pair of pants such as peasants sometimes wore, and a low-cut white shirt with a grotesque yellow face on it. "Who the hell are you?"

Aphora stiffened, eyeing the woman with a distaste as a sudden, horrible realization occurred to her. Was this her competition? The reason Imḫullu had stopped answering her letters? Was she already cast aside, a woman spurned?

Enlivened by her essence, a few silver strands of her garment unspooled, hidden behind her back but held ready to strike. "I could say the same to you," she replied coldly. "I came to speak with my consort and the father of my child, and I find you here instead. Where is Imḫullu and what are you doing here?"

"Oh," the woman snorted, "you're Ivan's little girlfriend. Sorry to disappoint you, but he isn't here. There was a bit of an emergency, something about your daughter and a dragon, or maybe it was a blood mage. I don't know," the woman rolled her shoulders nonchalantly. "I really wasn't paying attention."

A dragon? A few more threads of her dress unraveled as the woman made the absurd claim. Everyone knew that dragons were extinct, casualties of the great war between the Sidhe and the Mwyranni. "If you're going to lie, you could at least have the decency to make it a good one," she said icily. "Tell me the truth, are you his mistress?"

"Eugh." The woman screwed up her face and pretended to vomit. "Me and Ivan? Hell no. I know the ladies have always fawned over golden boy, but he doesn't exactly have the right equipment for me, if you know what I mean," she added, waggling an eyebrow.

"Equipment?" As a matter of fact, Aphora did not know what she meant. "You trying to claim you'd reject a man simply because you don't like his sword? He could always buy another one."

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"Now that would be a trick," the woman smirked. "I'll make sure to pass that suggestion along to Ivan. Maybe an obsidian blade would do the trick, something big and long and black."

Oh. Aphora's face flushed scarlet as the strange woman's meaning finally clicked. "You're really not interested in him."

"Nah, when it comes to matters of the heart, Ivan and I are rivals, not buddies. I can see why he likes you, though. There's nothing like a sexy woman with a quick temper to get the blood flowing," she grinned. "Quick question, though - were you actually planning on attacking me with those threads, or are you just a tease?"

Aphora stilled. While she'd prepared her essence for an attack, she'd taken great pains to keep the silver threads hidden out of sight. For the woman to spot them, she must have been either a highly skilled mage or… "You're a Sidhe." She worked hard to keep the fear out of her voice as she eyed the still-active portal back to her home. Can I reach it in time to close it?

"Guilty as charged," the woman grinned, "though I don't blame you for not noticing. Some days, it's nice to slum it."

Aphora didn't know what that meant either, but she doubted it mattered. "And do you share…Ivan's," she used the name the Sidhe seemed to prefer for Imḫullu, "feelings about our people."

An emotion flickered across the woman's face faster than Aphora could parse it, but was smoothed away with a grin. "I can't say I share his passion, but I guess maybe I share his 'dispassion.' Is that a word?" she shrugged. "After a few thousand years, hate just doesn't seem worth it anymore."

"You were one of his soldiers," Aphora racked her brain for her memories of Meḫḫawû's campaign as she came to the realization. "Which one were you - Ḫarbanāti? Mutus̆s̆â?"

"Who I was doesn't matter. It's just Anna now."

Though curious, Aphora let the matter drop. The Sidhe's secrets were hers to keep and, while she didn't seem hostile thus far, Aphora had no desire to push the matter. "So you weren't lying before - Ivan actually left to fight a dragon?" Her heart ticked up a beat as she suddenly realized that Tsia might be in grave danger.

"I'm really not sure of the details," Anna shrugged. "He left in kind of a hurry, and he didn't mention you'd be stopping by."

"My trip wasn't…entirely expected," Aphora admitted. "But he wasn't returning my messages - what was I supposed to do?"

"There's always a catch with the hot ones," the Sidhe chuckled. "Well, you're here now, so you might as well stick around. Even if he is fighting a dragon, I can't imagine he'll be gone long."

She pushed off the wall and exited the room, leaving Aphora with a difficult decision. As much as Anna seemed friendly - and, indeed, remarkably similar to Imḫullu in temperament - she knew it would be folly to trust her. She ought to turn around and go back through the portal, shutting it off until she knew Imḫullu had returned, but the thought of Tsia in danger tugged at her.

"I'm not going to kill you," Anna's voice drifted back. "If golden boy is willing to fight a dragon for your daughter, I shudder to think what he'd do to me if I hurt you. Besides," her voice twisted with amusement, "now's your chance to ask those questions that have been haunting you. Do you really want to throw away that opportunity?"

Aphora came to a decision, closing the portal with a bit of essence, just in case the Sidhe proved false, before she followed after her.

"I didn't realize any of Ivan's old commanders still worked with him. Are there more of you?"

"Not so many now," Anna waited for her to catch up before continuing toward the great hall. "Half fell in the war, and for many of those that remained, the war never quite ended. I was quite surprised when Ivan told me he intended to fight Erik," she continued.

"Erik?" Aphora echoed.

"You'd know him as Uzzîl, but Erik was one of my best friends," Anna replied. "He was funny as hell, the king of karaoke, and nearly as good at fighting as me," her lips twisted wryly. "He was definitely a better commander than me."

"Uzzîl," Aphora muttered, before recognizing it as the name of the leader of Dūr-Adû, the Sidhe they were intending to kill. "Will that be…a problem?" She asked cautiously, suddenly afraid she'd made a grave error by following the Sidhe despite her non-threatening appearance. "Maybe there's a way we can free them without…"

"Erik died a long time ago," Anna cut her off. "Uzzîl is just his ghost."

Afraid that anything she said might be taken the wrong way, Aphora held her tongue, and after a moment of silence, Anna kept speaking.

"I haven't decided what I'll do. I don't give a damn about those elves - you understand? I don't hate your people like I used to, but I won't waste any tears at seeing them suffer either. Karma's a bitch, as they say. But for Erik…" she trailed off. "If the rumors are true, he wouldn't have wanted to live like this."

The silence was interrupted by bright lights and a loud clanging that perked Anna up. "Oh, Ivan must be returning."

Grabbing Aphora by the hand, she pulled her down the hall, twisting and turning through the dark corridors until they reached a room she hadn't seen before. Golden light from a swirling portal flooded the room, and after a few minutes of waiting, Imḫullu stepped through.

He was too busy fussing over his burnt clothes and scorched hair as he limped out of the portal to notice her until her arms were wrapped around him. "You're hurt! What happened? Is Tsia okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." The golden warrior disentangled Aphora's arms from around his neck and planted a kiss on her lips.

"And Tsia?"

Her heart quailed as the Sidhe hesitated. "She was fine last I saw her, but she's in a tough battle," he admitted. Aphora started to ask another question, but she fell silent as she felt him go stiff, his eyes fixed on the Sidhe standing in the corner. "Anna," he said cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't an old friend come to catch up?" she drawled.

"They can," he agreed, "But I wasn't sure I still qualified."

"Truthfully," the woman grinned, "I'm not sure either. Care to find out?"

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