“Sure.” She sent a hand dancing back and forth, ruining the symbols. Qurrah spotted a fresh set of markings on her arm, but said nothing about them.

“Can you heal someone?” Qurrah asked. Tessanna gave him a funny look.

“I kill people, Qurrah, not heal them.”

“But can you?” he asked, more forcefully. “I have learned my spells from my masters, and from my experiments, yet you control power without ever having had a teacher. You are special, and we both know it. Now answer me. Can you heal someone?”

Tessanna crossed her arms and looked away.

“I don’t feel like answering.”

“You will,” Qurrah said. “I have no time for games. A loved one of my brother is dying.”

“Why do I care?”

Qurrah stood, and the whip uncoiled, its tip slapping the ground. Tessanna stared at him, showing no hint of fear.

“He is my brother,” Qurrah said. “If she suffers, then he suffers, and I will do whatever I can to stop it. Now answer me!”

Tessanna stood, anger swirling behind her eyes. She drew closer, ignoring his threatening glare. Her arms lunged out, grabbing each of his wrists. She shoved him against a wall and forced her lips to his. For one agonizing second, they shared the same breath, and all time became a frozen river. Then the thaw as she pulled back her lips and giggled.

“I think I can, Qurrah. Do you want me to? Because I will. I’ll do what you want.”

Qurrah nodded, holding in a gasp for air. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wished it to stop.

“Come with me to the Eschaton tower. Help me, and I might find you a home.”

“I don’t want a home,” she said, letting her hair fall before her eyes as she batted them shyly.

“What is it you want?” he asked.

“You.”

She laughed. Qurrah felt a stirring throughout his body. He did his best to ignore it. He offered his hand, and she accepted it with a smile.