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It was strange to see Kaðlín’s name pop up on the screen of her cell phone. It shouldn’t have been. She was a Cybele knight, of course, and she’d started to be something of a casual friend on top of that. When Brielle had told her to call her if she’d needed anything, she’d meant it.

It was just that for once her mind had been more focused on the things and people outside of the war than the people in it. She’d gotten a theater gig that was not a quick workshop here or helping out with a children’s production there, which was most of what her work had been since the disappearances had made her hard to hire. Someone had taken a chance on her, though, and now she was ensemble in West Side Story, and it turned out that being in a show made it hard to focus on much else. She wasn’t sure how she’d managed both this and fighting in her old forgotten life.

Still, she picked up the phone from the kitchen counter before it could ring twice. Kaðlín was asking her to come over, and in a fluid motion, Brielle turned from the kitchen to walk over to the closet and pop the door open, reaching to her coat. “Of course,” she said. “I’m coming. I think it will be about ten minutes, unless traffic is awful.”

She knew the other woman well enough to know that she was good at keeping a cool head, but not quite well enough to read in between the lines of her nonchalant tones. She stopped by the front door, grabbed her keys, and stepped into a pair of faux-fleece lined booties. “What’s going on?” Did she need advice, or was someone dead?

Hard to explain. Brielle knew code well enough. She knew that they had to cover their tracks, that asking to talk about something in person was often the only way to bring things up when it had to do with magic, and the war. Hearing that it was an opportunity was something of a relief. At least that most likely meant that nobody important was dead. Such things were always a possibility. Brielle had seen far too many horrors not to be afraid that there was always another one right around the corner.

There was little more to say for the moment, though, other than to say, “All right. I’ll be there,” and then to click off the call.

Then she got into the car. Brielle didn’t often drive, but it seemed worth it for the extra speed over trying to deal with other kinds of transport. It did mean that she had to think about the road, though, and the traffic lights, and the driver that swerved in front of her. She took a second to breathe as she pulled into a parking spot next to Kaðlín’s apartment.

Then she pulled her peacoat over her blouse, stepped out of the car, and made her way over. Heading up now, she texted, as she walked up the stairs to the apartment.

“Coffee can help in almost every situation,” said Brielle, slipping easily through the door with her own practiced smile. It wasn’t hard to be polite when her hostess was being so thoughtful. “And this one smells amazing.” She followed her friend over to the counter, giving them both a few seconds to settle into the moment before they got down to brass tacks. She didn’t add as much milk as Kaðlín, only enough to take the sharpest of the bitterness off.

As she perched on the edge of a chair across from Kaðlín, she took the first sip. It was a good cup of coffee, but not quite good enough to keep the concern from showing on her face as she heard exactly what was going on. She took a breath and then another drink, making sure her expression was even before she said anything. Kaðlín was mourning and looking for answers. Brielle understood that. Her gut reaction of panic wasn’t going to do much good here.

By the same token, she didn’t want the others to be careless.

“I don’t take prisoners, as a rule,” she said. “Not long after I purified, the people who took me in tried something like that. Had a General for a few weeks, I believe?” She swallowed hard, but put the coffee down so that she could look straight at the other woman. “Until the Negaverse sent in a rescue attempt. Killed one of them.” Her lips pressed thin. “Took another one captive, in turn. And the General survived.” She folded her hands on her knee. “So, that’s my warning, and if you would like my honest advice, it’s going to come out of that scenario.”

Even now, the thought of the risk made her heart beat faster.

“But, anyway, did you ask him? Is he talking?”

Brielle's face was carefully controlled, almost grim, even with the smell of coffee to cheer the situation up a bit. "I won't tell you what to do," she said, and she wouldn't, "But if you're determined to help with this hostage situation, please be careful. Not just with the captive. Watch your back."

She went silent for a long second, and very still. Glancing down, she could see her reflection in the surface of her drink. She didn't move to take another sip. Instead, she thought of her father's funeral. She thought of the emptiness that haunted Ganymede's eyes after everything, even now. In some ways, the person who had offered her hope and softness in her darkest moments was gone now.

Kaðlín wasn't particularly young, or particularly reckless. Brielle trusted her to be careful to the best of her abilities. It was just that there were things that people didn't understand about the reality of war until they'd been involved for as long as she had, so long that it stretched into a life that she couldn't even remember.

"I think there are a few other Cybele knights now," she said, quieter. "But out of all of them, you're the one who's made the point of speaking with me the most about things." The cup in her hands began to shake, the smooth surface of the water rippling. "I don't think I could take it right now if something were to happen."

She looked back up, took half a breath.

"But I'll know you'll do what you can." And it would likely be overbearing to say more. People could already take her words so seriously sometimes, now that she held the title of Princess.

"As far as what to say," she squinted, trying to think of something helpful to say but not coming up with much at first. Torture wasn't always that effective. She knew that from the time she'd lost part of her feet.

There had been something else then, though. That device Faustite had worn. Not that that thing, in particularly, would do them any good, but maybe there were other options.

"Magic would be the ideal, if you could get something worked out. It's possible there's someone around who has a truth spell. If you had more time I'd say the Mauvians could work on something for you."

But that would get into dangerous territory.

"Otherwise, just ask, I suppose. You might not get anything, but it's worth trying."

General information was the best you were going to get from a hostage, Brielle thought. Particularly if the hostage was whoever you could get your hands on, and not someone high ranking or important.

She'd been called over here like she might have some answers, but for a long time, Brielle found herself with no words. She didn't say that Kaðlín's quest for closure, was hopeless, even though it likely was. How many people did the Negaverse kill in Destiny City every week?

There was no record of it, as far as Brielle was aware. She thought back to the starseeds she'd taken, to how she'd left the nameless corpses in the alleyways. Sometimes, she hadn't even looked at their faces beforehand.

Back then, those dozens of deaths had felt like nothing. Now, the lack of just one person filled the whole room. Brielle pressed her lips together as a darker thought crossed her mind.

Was I the one who did this?

There was no way to know.

"If this is the road you're taking, I hope you learn what you need to from it," she said instead, taking a drink for some sense of looking normal.

"You seem to be thinking clearly about it at least," said Brielle, steadily, like she was thinking normally about this. She said it like she had authority to be a mentor, and not like she had created so many situations like this with her own two hands.

She took a deep breath. The coffee was almost gone.

Kaðlín was trying to talk about morality now. She was trying to talk about being better than the Negaverse. How did Brielle explain that this wasn't about morality to her? How did she say that she say that she hadn't purified to be a good person without making it very clear to this person who invited her over for advice that she was still something of a monster?

She'd had empathy come back to her in fits and starts with the Chaos gone, but she found that it didn't exactly tug at her heartstrings to hear that this agent was suffering. It wasn't her style, but it didn't bother her.

"There's a lot of thinking to do, about these kinds of things," she decided to say in the end. "And some of my thinking was influenced for a time. I came out of it with blood on my hands." She paused. "I'm saying, if you change your mind and want to kill him, I can do it."

She wouldn't ask that of someone else.

She drained the coffee. "Either way, let me know how it goes, all right? I can't stay too much later now, but I'll be around."