“Don’t come between a bardoch and its prey. The same advice applies to women.”

-Ellian Garrow, Concordian monster hunter, 180 U.E.

“She’s taking too long,” Stephan said. He stared out of the window at the mossy rooftops glowing in the early dawn.

Taira kissed his shoulder. “She’s probably being thorough.”

“I don’t like it. She could be in trouble.”

“We talked about this. She is capable. Trust her.”

“Capable, not invincible.”

Stephan made up his mind and hurriedly set about getting dressed, fetching a fresh suit. Taira protested, pointed out that he was far lesser a fighter than Yin, but he ignored her.

If that girl needs help, I have to help her.

Vormor’s house did nothing without its mistress’s command, so Stephan went to its mistress to ask for permission to leave.

Vormor was just as skeptical as Taira, but let him go with an odd, many-shouldered shrug. The front door creaked open all on its own, and Stephan stepped through.

Picking up Yin’s trail wasn’t difficult. He went to Sweet Devil, finding someone who was familiar with Wil’s father and could point out the general area where he lived. From there, he paid Wil’s father a visit, finding not the boy but only a beat-up man nursing fresh wounds sat on his couch.

Wil’s father assumed that Stephan had come to kill his son, but didn’t seem overly distraught at the prospect. He grumbled that the lout was more trouble than he was worth, and gave the name of the street where his boy was hiding out.

Disgusted by the lack of any fatherly love, but glad to be nearing his destination, Stephan hurried on. He paid a group of orphans a few standards to point out the building and room number. He took the stairs two steps at a time until he reached the third floor, and kicked down the door that was supposed to be Wil’s.

The smell of dirty copper overpowered that of sweet mold as soon as he entered. He saw nothing as he craned his neck in the narrow hall, pistol drawn, but heard muffled sobbing.

Yin, he thought.

Following the sound, he kicked through a flimsy door leading into a bedroom. Yin sat on the edge of the bed, weeping into her hands.

A blond-haired boy lay on the floor, face swollen beyond recognition. Nose cracked, lip burst, whites of his eyes stained red. He stared sightlessly into the ceiling, hair matted to the floor with his own blood.

“Codes…” Stephan whispered.

Even as he knelt to check the boy’s pulse, he knew that he was dead. The feeling of cold, lifeless skin only confirmed it.

“Will he… be okay?” Yin asked between sobs. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just got… so… angry.”

Stephan wiped the dead boy’s blood on his suit and got on one knee next to Yin’s small, shivering form. He took her hands in his, rubbing her bruised knuckles with his thumbs.

“You don’t need to worry about any of this,” he murmured, putting a comforting strength in his voice despite feeling like he was going to double over and heave. “I will take care of it.”

“He lied to me,” Yin said. Her eyes were huge, glittering jets. “The whole time, he was lying. Rand paid him to find out all our secrets—and I gave them right up, because I’m gullible and weak and pathetic.”

Stephan glanced at the mess of bills taking up one corner of the room. A substantial amount.

“You’re none of those things,” he said. “Wil took advantage of your trust. That says nothing about you.”

“I wanted to think… that I deserved a friend.” Yin wiped snot from her upper lip on her shoulder. “But I’m always going to be alone. That’s what I deserve. I’m a monster.”

“I’m here.” Stephan squeezed her hands. “And I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t have to say that.” Yin pulled away, curled up against the wall. “I promise I won’t hurt you. If you leave, I won’t follow you. So you don’t need to make any promises or excuses. I hate hearing them from you.”

Stephan sat down next to her, pointedly avoiding the dead boy with his gaze. “Listen. There’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. Something I’d like to ask you.”

Yin struggled to even out her ragged breaths, wiping tears over and over. “Yeah?”

“How would you like to have a father?”

Yin gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t taunt me, cook. Who would have me?”

“I would.” He added: “If that would make you happy.”

Yin looked at him like he’d just sprouted extra arms. She stood off the bed, turned to him, and with a single smooth motion had one of her swords beneath his chin, the point tickling his Adam's apple.

“Don’t you lie to me,” Yin hissed. “Not you too.”

Stephan slowly reached up and took hold of the blade without breaking eye contact. He squeezed hard enough to draw blood from his palm, fat scarlet drops making their way down the sword’s keen edge.

“I swear, sweet pea. Nothing but the truth. Would you have this old fool as your father?”

Yin pushed out fresh tears. Lip quivering, she let go of the sword, and Stephan tossed it aside. She came in for a hug, squeezing his midsection, and sobbed against his chest.

“Promise,” she said.

“I promise.”

“Promise again.”

“I promise.”

They embraced for several minutes without a word. Stephan kissed her hair and lifted her away, standing up.

“Now,” he said. “You have to get back to Vormor’s. I will clean this up.”

Yin looked towards Wil. “But…”

“Do as I say.” He kept his voice stern, leaving no room for rebuttals. “I’ll be back soon.”

Yin reluctantly shuffled towards the door. She picked up her sword, cleaned it on her sleeve, and stuck it back in its sheath. Looking back at him, she hesitated.

“I love you, sweet pea,” he said.

“You too… dad,” Yin returned, working the word around in her mouth as though it was wholly unfamiliar.

Then she left, and Stephan closed the door behind her. He turned to Wil’s cold, stiffened corpse, and suddenly all the weight in the world was on his shoulders.

Stephan rolled up his sleeves, puffed up his cheeks, and set to work.

Codes, what I wouldn’t do for that child, he thought.