The eyebrow lifted higher. "You want to dance with me? Why?"

Fennikk's voice played in my ear. Did you try telling him one thing you like about him? I licked my lips and dropped my gaze, hoping the lack of visual stimulation would help me focus.

"Because I like..." Your face, your smile, your body, your voice, your humor, your protectiveness, your loyalty, your honesty... fuck, I even liked his confusion and hesitation. The way he deliberated and agonized over his decisions. The way he cared not because he felt he should but because he couldn't stop himself.

"You," I finished weakly. "I like you."

Rekkan drew a slow breath. Before he could respond, Mekkar stepped toward us and raised a palm. "Zafaru, you must know Rekkan doesn't like dancing."

"I know," I said, "But I wanted to ask because... well, if he won't dance with me, I might have to dance with someone else."

Mekkar clucked his tongue. "Zafaru, that's not really a fair —"

"I'll dance," said Rekkan.

I couldn't stop myself from grinning. "Really? You want to dance with me?"

His eyes fell to my lips, and his eyebrows twitched together and chest deflated. Voice hoarse and breathless, he said, "Yep."

Rekkan handed his guitar to a still-surprised Mekkar and led me toward the dance floor. His free hand grazed down my side and settled on my hip cautiously — hesitantly.

For an entire song, I maintained a similar posture, barely touching his shoulder and flashing shy smiles before averting my gaze. Rather than embolden me, the alcohol only changed my focus. When my eyes caught on Mekkar helping himself to his second drink, and a needling voice prodded the back of my mind: Now's your chance! Find out what he knows! But my eyes returned to Rekkan, and my heart beat out his name, and my lungs contracted with the effort of restraint.

Still trembling on the edge of control, I kneaded his shoulder and slipped my hand down to lay flat against his chest.

His feet stopped moving, and his eyes burned into mine.

The song ended, and the next failed to start. In the awkward silence, everyone left the dance floor to hit up the drink table or scope out a new partner. Rekkan and I stood alone, both unable to speak and unable to look away—basking in each other's presence but unprepared to address the lingering confusion. Beneath my palm, his chest burned hot, rising and falling with uneven breaths. His rapid heartbeats matched my own.

Mekkar broke the silence, three drinks carefully balanced between his hands. "Hello there, favorite people! Let's share a toast!" Trapping his own drink between his teeth, he extended a cup toward each of us.

I eyed it with an apologetic smile. "Thanks, Mekkar, but I think I've had enough."

Mekkar's breath rippled his lips. "Tonight is a time to let go, not the time to stop at 'enough.' Don't you agree?"

Rekkan glared at Mekkar.

I accepted the drink.

"Alright," I said, raising the glass for a toast. "Here's to a little more than enough!"

Mekkar beamed. "To more than enough! That's the best toast I've ever heard!"

The next song finally started, the perfect more-than-enough theme-song of blaring optimism, and bodies flooded the dance floor once more. Mekkar and I clinked our plastic cups with a muted chick and then tapped the cups against Rekkan's stationary one. He stared down both of us, drilling Mekkar with animosity and me with... worry?

I got this, I wanted to promise. Just let me save the world fast, and then we can live out the rest of our lives just the two of us at the fortress.

But I lacked the privacy to say the words — and the confidence. How could I save everyone when I still didn't understand what I was fighting against? And even if I could, would he still want to be with me?

Mekkar chugged several gulps of the violet liquid, and I took one swig of mine. Rekkan's cup barely touched his lips, and his eyes never left me.

"Zafaru," said Mekkar, "Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

It was almost too good to be true, the third suspect seeking me out, yet disappointment splashed over my gut. "Well, I was dancing with Rekkan..."

"I don't mind," said Rekkan.

Before I could protest, he pivoted, stalked off the dance floor, and dropped into one of the chairs lining the walls.

I glared at Mekkar. "What is it? Talk."

Mekkar frowned and swigged a little more from his cup. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just hoping you could help me"—he sucked a breath through his teeth and pushed out his next words as though they were only one—"make amends with Serigg."

I blinked. "How would I help with that?"

"Since she seems to like you, I thought you could offer me some advice."

If he wanted something from me and I wanted something from him, perhaps it was time to play tough. "What's in it for me?"

Mekkar side-glanced Rekkan, who leaned back in his chair with long legs stretched straight before him. A Southie woman perched on the seat next to Rekkan, leaning a bit too close for my liking. She flashed a broad smile at him and fingered the beaded necklace dipping into an expanse of cleavage. Oh, Ether, fluffy hair. Her hair was so fucking fluffy.

Mekkar dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do you want to hear about Jekkana?"

I tore my eyes from Miss Too-Fluffy. "Jeh- who?"

"My sister. Rekkan's mother."

That seemed unlikely to further my sleuthing goals, but I couldn't say no to anything Rekkan-related. "Please continue."

"Out of six siblings, I was the youngest. Jekkana was second-to-youngest, but she was my protector."

"Protector from what?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I wasn't particularly well-liked at school. And Jekkana, she..." His lips twitched in a smile, but his eyes grew distant. "She didn't need to be well-liked. She was well-feared, instead. I surpassed her in size by the time I was ten, but I was a bit of a..."

"Coward?"

His shoulders pinched in a shrug. "Anyway, Jekkana hated the rest of the family, so she left home as soon as she legally could and lived as a free spirit. I was the only one she still spoke to... and the only one she told when she got pregnant."

I darted an unwilling glance at Rekkan. The Fluff-Master draped a delicate hand over his chair an inch from his shoulder. Her twisted position tugged on her crimson dress, revealing even more of her cleavage. She batted long lashes over sparkling green eyes. Rekkan folded his arms over his chest, gaze fixed on the opposite wall and expression stoney.

Mekkar continued. "I was worried about how she'd raise a baby all alone, but she insisted she could do it. And maybe she could have, but when Rekkan's life began, Jekkana's ended."

I gripped the drink tighter, cold battling the burn of alcohol in my belly. The tune blasted even louder, peppier. Taunting.

Mekkar swirled the scant remaining liquid in his cup, eyes pinned to the ground just past my feet. "My older siblings were determined to raise the baby right — set him up for a life of success. They were so determined to do him right that they wouldn't let their loser of a youngest brother have a chance with the boy. That is, until I married Serigg."

His eyes flicked toward the empty Northern entrance, and his voice choked. "Serigg bonded with the boy more in minutes than the others had been able to in years. She was just so genuine, so accepting..." He swallowed and blinked back tears. "Watching her with him made me love her even more than I already did."

My stomach dissolved into a murky pool of bubbling questions, and my eyes flitted to Rekkan once more. The fluffy woman now scowled, green eyes blazing and chin digging into a propped fist. Rekkan's expression and posture remained unchanged.

I took another sip, begging the alcohol for help responding. The strum of intoxication failed to aid the formation of words, but it expedited the approval process. Words left my mouth before I even completed the thought.

"If you loved her so much, why did you leave her?"

He yanked his drink to his lips and chugged. When the last drop plopped on his tongue, he spluttered crackling words. "She — she told me to leave."

"Only because after the Implanted destroyed her face, you wouldn't even look at her."

He clucked dissent. "Well, that's not... you see, the face is a reminder."

"A reminder?"

"That it's my fault. What happened to her was all my fault."

"Your fault, how?"

He swallowed. "I think I've told you enough to earn a little advice, wouldn't you say so?"