“I’ll go straight to the café and straight back,” Cass promised. “Brother Matthias just wants a progress report. It’ll be fine.”
For the next hour, Riot helped Cass prepare with the kind of thorough attention usually reserved for important spiritual ceremonies. Except this wasn’t about harmony or transcendence—it was about lying convincingly to the man who had guided Cass’s spiritual development for years, and someone Cass secretly considered a father figure.
Not lying, Cass corrected himself.Just... presenting a selective truth.
Riot checked his appearance, adjusting the drape of his robes. He made him practice his cover story until Cass could recite it without hesitation, then tested his responses to questions Brother Matthias might ask, his expression growing grimmer with each rehearsal. But his hands kept finding reasons to touch. Adjusting Cass’s collar. Smoothing his hair. Checking his pulse “to make sure the pills aren’t causing adverse reactions.”
“Remember,” Riot said, his hands settling on Cass’s shoulders as they prepared to leave. His grip was firm, almost too tight. “Keep the story simple. You’ve been working on recruitment, making slow progress.”
“I remember.”
“And if he asks about your health—”
“Minor stomach bug from Neutral Zone food.”
“And if anything feels wrong—”
“I leave immediately.” Cass looked up at Riot. “It’s just Brother Matthias. Everything will be fine.”
Riot’s hands moved from his shoulders to frame his face, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. “Don’t talk to anyone else,” Riot said softly. “Don’t stop anywhere.”
“Okay,” Cass whispered.
Riot’s forehead pressed against his for just a moment—warm, solid, like an anchor in a world that kept tilting sideways. Then he stepped back abruptly, leaving Cass feeling strangely hollow.
“Go,” Riot said roughly. “Before I change my mind.”
The café was as crowded as Cass remembered. Brother Matthias had secured the same corner booth, looking pristine despite the questionable surroundings. His earth-toned robes were immaculate as always, his hair perfectly arranged, and his expression one of gentle spiritual concern.
“Brother Cassiopeia.” He rose to embrace Cass with warmth. “You look... different.”
Cass’s heart stuttered. “Different?”
“Your energy.” Brother Matthias’s sharp eyes studied his face. “It’s clouded. Disrupted. There’s something foreign in your aura.”
“I’ve been ill,” Cass said quickly. “There’s a flu going around the Neutral Zone. And the local food doesn’t agree with me.”
“Hmm.” Brother Matthias didn’t look convinced, but he gestured for Cass to sit. “Tell me about your recruitment efforts.”
Cass recited the lies he’d practiced, weaving stories of slow progress and promising contacts. The words felt strange in hismouth—he’d never been good at deception, and always believed that spiritual truth required honesty in all things.
But Riot had helped him practice, and if he mentioned he was sharing a room with a Berserker, Brother Matthias might get the wrong idea about how his mission was going.
Cass tried to project the kind of serene confidence that would convince his mentor everything was proceeding normally.
“Your spiritual resonance is... off,” Brother Matthias said when Cass finished. “Even accounting for illness. Have you been taking your wellness supplements regularly?”
“Yes, Brother Matthias.”It’s technically true. I took some today. It’s not a lie.
“And yet something has changed.” His gaze narrowed. “Have you been spending time with people resistant to our message more than required? Sometimes exposure to spiritually unaligned individuals can contaminate one’s energy field if there is no effort being made on their part to change.”
Riot’s scent. Riot’s hands. Riot’s voice saying “there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“No one significant,” Cass said, and he hated how easily the lie came.
“I’m worried about you, Brother Cassiopeia. Your aura shows signs of spiritual interference. Blockages that are preventing you from achieving your full potential.”
“I’ve been trying—”
