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He shook his head. “Far nastier, because it is stronger and more effective, according to the healer.”

"After you take it you may feel woozy. That is why it is best done here." He looked at me directly. "I will not do anything inap⁠—"

"I trust you completely," I said without thinking.

The words surprised me as much as they surprised him. But they were true and I did not take them back.

He remained quiet. He was not the silent type, and neither was I. But somehow these small silences we shared were comfortable ones.

He uncorked the vial and passed it across the table.

It tasted like rust and something green. I swallowed it in one go and

set the vial down harder than I meant to, my hand not quite steady.

"That is vile." I do not tell him about the cough earlier that morning, or the color of what came up with it.

It had happened again before I left the Darkway tonight. This time black with red threaded through it.

In truth, I likely needed whatever this stronger treatment was. Even if it tasted foul.

His eyes stayed on my hand a second too long. He did not say anything either.

“I am sure you have been told that the West is not known for its cooking."

“You never told me that,” I said.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. “I am beginning to question this whole Vaelors cannot lie thing, Lord Eravic.”

“I never mentioned that I said it myself, only that I was certain that others have.”

I tilted my head. Indeed, that tracked. There had been multiple times in my life when people had mentioned that the West had terrible food.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” I grumbled.

He chuckled.

We sat in silence a while longer, as though we knew there were things to talk about and gambling to be done but we simply wanted to savor the strange peacefulness of the moment.

The lamp softened at the edges. Not much. Enough that I noticed the grain of the table under my fingers and found it interesting.

He watched me carefully.

"I know you miss them," he said.

I did not answer right away.

"I do."

"There is a way."

I lifted my head.

He turned his cup slowly on the wood. "What was lost when you were born can be given back. It has a name. The Arrolyn." He said it plainly. "Placed properly, you would be able to cross. Not far. But you would be able to cross."

"Cross?”

"The threshold." He looked at me. "You would be able to go to him."