It took me two days to grow accustomed to the monster that roamed outside. Two days to be convinced that it would not come and eat me while I slept. The girl refused to answer any more questions about the beast’s purpose in between tales about her hints of war. I tossed and turned in my sleep; every time I dreamed, I saw the blue moon looking down on me, blinding me with its brightness, and I woke up sweating.

“You’re aware of the circumstances of my exile,” she said to me while the daeva dozed outside, unaffected by the hot sun baking down overhead. “You wouldn’t have sought me out otherwise.”

“I know that they accused you of conspiracy and of treason.”

“They accused me of many things. Of killing a king and an asha. Of being one of the Faceless. Of betraying the kingdoms. But I am only guilty of one of those.”

“But was it wrong for them to believe you capable of these things?”

“That is not quite true; I am more than capable.” She smiled wryly. “But the last time I tried to explain myself, I was cast out and banished for my troubles. I will let them sort out what I did and did not do when this is all over. My work is not yet complete.”

She showed me her collection of tiny bottles, all glass and different colors. It was a curious luxury, given her surroundings, but she disagreed. “This is our beauty secret,” she laughed and picked up a small vial that held a red liquid. She pressed the tip of her finger against the opening and upended the bottle, so that the liquid inside coated the skin but prevented more from spilling out. She dabbed her finger against the sides of her neck. I caught a whiff of jasmine and flowers.

“These are my potions,” she explained, selecting another bottle that contained a thick, yellow concoction. “The cheapest of these spells are sold in the market commons all around the world. The more expensive spells are those that cater to each specific individual, made to draw out their strengths and hide their weaknesses. I have a blunt personality, more likely to say what I mean instead of sparing someone’s feelings. This will not temper my words, but it will help those who listen to me accept them with lesser offense. Of course, if one is strong in the magic themselves, this may not work on them. Or one might wear another spell that cancels out this magic. You cannot put on too many of the stronger spells all at once, for they muddle together and make themselves ineffective. Choosing which spells to wear is like playing a game, except you are forced to decide your moves without knowing what your opponent might bring to the fight.”

She selected a color stick next and gently daubed her cheekbones with it. “This is more for me than for show,” she admitted to me. “It keeps my strength up.” The rest she left on the table, and she drew the divider back to hide them once more from view. “I don’t wear them as much as I used to. Nowadays it’s easier to face people as myself instead of looking through a mask.” She looked around and added wryly, “Though the amount of visitors in the three months I have been here leave something to be desired.”

She turned back to me, and the changes became apparent. She looked softer somehow, more graceful as she stood. Her dainty feet moved over the uneven ground, and she lifted the hem of her dress to step over the threshold that separated the cave from the rest of the sandy shore. The stained, muddied fabric only further highlighted to me the difference between who she once was and the sympathetic state she was now in. She walked with her head bowed, and I admired the way she carried herself—even in exile, she remained dignified.

It didn’t feel right for her to be here, forced to take up house in a nameless cave on a sea of skulls bordering on the edge of the world. It didn’t feel right that she be forced to live on this lonely beach like a nomad. It didn’t feel right to see her so sad, and it angered me that so many misunderstood.

The taurvi approached to lick at her hand, and a fog cleared from my mind. The rush of affinity I felt for her diminished. My sympathy remained, but it was no longer racked by the growing, passionate force that seized me when she first rose from her vanity table.

“That’s been another problem with these spells,” she said. “A taurvi diminishes magic the way its bezoar does, and only the Dark runes are most effective on it. That is why most rely on Dark asha to put it back into the ground.”

I stared at her. She only shrugged.

“You knew; still you were affected by the charms I wear. Now imagine the subtlety it can wreak on an unsuspecting world.”