Ana woke up several hours before dawn. Messy slept on peacefully, one arm and one leg pressing Ana tight against herself, and Ana didn’t want to disturb her. Instead she just lay there, feeling Messy’s soft breaths against her neck, enjoying her presence, and thought.

  By the time Messy stirred, hours later, Ana had come to a decision.

  “Hey, Mess,” she whispered into the darkness.

  “Hey yourself, sweetie,” Messy grumbled sleepily. “What time is it?”

  “Shouldn’t be long until sunrise. Are you okay to wake up? I want to talk about something.”

  “Hmm? What?”

  “It’s my Class. I want to tell you about it.”

  “Huh? Oh. Oh, shit.” Ana smiled as she heard Messy become more alert, then fumbling around to roll over. Finally she heard the click of the little firestarter, and a soft, warm light spread throughout the room from the fat candle Messy kept by the bed.

  “All right,” Messy said finally, turning back. “Are you sure? Telling someone about your Class is pretty—”

  “I know. I know what it means. And I’m sure. I want you to know.”

  “Okay,” Messy said softly. She sat with her back to the wall — the narrow bed didn’t have a headboard — and Ana shifted onto her side, her head in Messy’s lap. Messy reflexively started stroking her hair.

  “You know I have a combat Class already,” Ana said. “I’ve unhidden it. Go ahead and inspect me.”

  “Okay,” Messy said, then took a sharp breath. “That’s… a dramatic Class name. What tier is that?”

  “Paragon. I don’t even know what that means.”

  Messy made a choked sound. “Does the Guild know?”

  “Yeah. Them, and Kaira… and I might have told Touanne. I’m not even sure.”

  “Paragon tier is— I don’t have a number to give you for how rare that is. Rare enough that you may be the only one, or one of two or three people, with that Class. Anywhere. In the Primes and all the splinters. How did you ever unlock it?”

  “The Wayfarer gave it to me.”

  Messy’s hand stopped for a second, then continued. “Okay?” Her voice was strained.

  “When Nic and I — or I guess just Nic. I shouldn’t have come along, apparently — When we were summoned, neither of us had a Class. So the Wayfarer gave us each a Class she thought would fit our personalities.”

  “No Class?” Messy whispered. “Okay?”

  “My Class was supposed to help me protect Nic. To make me stronger when he’s in danger, stuff like that. The Class locks onto a couple of people, to help you protect them. But then he cracked his skull open, and I guess his soul fled or whatever before I got my first level, because everything glitched, and my Class locked onto me myself instead.”

  “Okay.” When Ana remained silent, Messy managed to ask, “What… if you’re okay with telling me, how does it make you stronger?”

  “My Class level to all Attributes.”

  Messy gave off a little squeak.

  “Double that while I’m defending myself.”

  The squeak turned into a low keening.

  “But then the Wayfarer messed with my Abilities, so most of them work to help me protect anyone I’m in a Party with.”

  “Mm-hmm!”

  “I can tell whenever someone I’m protecting is in danger. Which direction they’re in, and their general condition — like all right, hurt, tired, afraid. Stuff like that. And, like you saw with Deni, I can absorb injuries meant for them.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I saw that. Yeah. This is all pretty… amazing.”

  “Apparently, yeah.”

  “What, ah, what’s your Strength?”

  “Thirty-one, effective. Forty-five while I’m defending myself or someone in my party.”

  Messy didn’t say anything for a while, but Ana could feel her heat up slightly, and hear her heart beating faster. “Gods beyond,” she finally whispered. “You’re level 9, Ana!”

  “Yeah.”

  “If this gets out, Guilds will be fighting to recruit you! Some may try to kill you before you get any stronger, or to make sure no one else can have you! Gods, Ana, why did you tell me? You shouldn’t let anyone know about this!”

  “I know,” Ana said, and rolled over so that she could look up at Messy’s face. “But I wanted you to know. I like you. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I feel comfortable with you, and safe in a way that I haven’t really felt… I guess ever. I don’t— I don’t have much, Messy. There’s not much I can offer, except myself. But there is something I can do.”

  “What?”

  “I can add another person, other than myself, that my Class wants me to protect. Someone I’ll always be in a Party with, no matter what, and who I’ll always know where they are and how they’re doing.”

  “Ana, what are you saying?” Messy stroked her hair. Her eyes said that she understood exactly what Ana was saying, but that she wanted to hear it.

  “It’s not permanent. You can, uh…” Ana swallowed thickly. “You can dismiss it, if you want to. I can’t, but you can. But at least until this is all over, I’d like to know that you’re safe. Is that okay?”

  “Of course that’s— oh!” Messy cut off, and her eyes unfocused for a second before she giggled. There was a nervous edge to it. “‘Object of devotion,’ Ana? Really?”

  Ana let out a long, relieved breath as she saw two notifications. Then she could feel Messy. She was right there, of course. Healthy, and a little scared.

  Apparently the System understood what she’d been trying to do, even when the words were hard to say.

  [Mestendi has accepted your devotion. May your bond never be broken.

  Mestendi, Jeweler (15), has joined your Party.]

  “I didn’t pick the name,” Ana mumbled. “Blame the Wayfarer or whoever.”

  “I don’t think She picked the name, either, even if She gave you the Class. The System is above the gods.”

  “Okay,” Ana said. “There’s one more thing. I don’t know if you’ll care though.”

  “Um… tell me?”

  “I’m not human. According to the System.”

  “Oh? You are when I inspect you.”

  “Yeah. My race is hidden.”

  “So, ah… what are you?”

  “Outsider—”

  “What?” Messy went stiff and her hand stopped again for just a moment, before she relaxed and continued. “Outsider? Like… like an actual angel?”

  “I’m human!” Ana protested. “I’ve always been human! It’s just this stupid System—”

  Messy silenced her by bending double and wrapping her arms around her. “You’re an angel,” she insisted reverently. “My sweet angel. You even have wings.”

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  Ana’s face got so hot she was sure Messy could feel it. Every few days Messy would tell her the most affectionate thing anyone had ever said to her, and she never knew quite how to handle it. “That’s a tattoo,” she protested weakly, as though that was an argument. “And it’s a bird.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care,” Messy whispered, kissing her right in the middle of the forehead. “The goddess gave you the perfect Class. You can be as human as they come. You could be a Clerk or a Baker or no Class at all, and you’d still be my angel. My sweet guardian angel. That’s just who you are.”

  “Okay.”

  It was the only response Ana could think of. She could have asked why Messy wasn’t freaking out more than she was, but she wasn’t feeling quite self-sabotaging enough. No matter what Ana told her, Messy was determined to support and care about her. Ana needed that unconditional support right now. There would be time enough for stupid insecurities later.

  “I have something to tell you, too,” Messy said suddenly. “I leveled up.”

  “What?” Ana looked, and sure enough, Messy’s label now said [Elfin Jeweller (15)], as did the notification from when Messy joined the Party. Ana had been too inside her own head to pay attention. “I thought you were saving up to buy out Renvi?”

  “I was. I even sold the Crystals. But I bought them back yesterday.”

  “Why?”

  “Can’t run a shop if I’m dead,” Messy said with a shrug, and Ana’s heart twisted in a painfully unfamiliar way. “I’m going to be fighting, and I need every edge I can get. I even considered resetting. I probably could have gone to level 7 or 8 in Fighter… but I couldn’t do it. Anyway, this way I got a Dexterity Enhancement. Pretty good, too.”

  “What did you get?”

  “Critical Strike. Greatly increased accuracy when fighting unarmed or with a melee weapon.”

  “You’re happy with that? It won’t do anything for your jewelry making.”

  “No, I’m happy. But thanks for asking. I plan to keep Delving as long as my body lets me, and it’s a good Enhancement.”

  “It is good, yeah. Suits you.”

  “Enhancements usually do.”

  After what Tellak and Mamtass had told her, about how many of the officers and militia members worshiped the Wayfarer, Ana began to see the signs. How some of them paid closer attention to what she said, or kept stealing glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. The way they were more attentive and deferential compared to her other students, who were already a pretty respectful bunch. Even Trilgayeri and Syltfer, Waller’s cronies, paid attention and followed her instructions diligently. Nobody said it outright, but she knew that the goddess had been hard at work getting her followers on Ana’s side.

  That day she had each group split in two, where one side would be the attacking crazies, and the other would be the defending Delvers. She didn’t bother with the reverse; there was no reason to think that the crazies would ever be on the defensive. The size of the exercises felt way too small, though, and she discussed with each of the officers if they thought larger scale exercises would be good. And just like that, it was decided. The next day there would only be two classes: one in the morning, and one in the afternoon, with half the militia in each.

  It was going to be… interesting.

  So was that evening. Tellak had told her that the officers wanted to meet her at Petra's that night, for a dinner meeting. The way she said it, Ana’s attendance was very much desired.

  She’d told Tellak, “I’m bringing Messy,” and Tellak had just nodded, and that was that.

  So it was that when sunset came around, when she had bathed and changed and had a chance to wind down just a little, Ana stood outside Petra’s, with Messy at her side. For the first time that she could remember she felt anxious about going in.

  Messy squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Go on, Angel,” she whispered. “Whatever this is about, you can handle it.”

  Four square tables had been pushed together to make one large enough to seat twelve people, and other than Tellak and Petra, all of the militia officers were already there. When Ana and Messy entered the common room, Simt, the demi-fae Kineticist, waved at them with great excitement. “Miss Ana! Here, here!” she called, her voice high and bright, and knocked the two empty chairs next to her away from the table with a gesture.

  With Messy gently encouraging her, Ana took her seat, a relaxed smile plastered on her face. Mikkel showed up unasked with two big bowls of stew then returned with bread and again with two mugs of ale. “Thank you, Mikkel,” Messy said as he put the mugs down, giving him a bright smile that turned him a very warm shade of pink.

  Ana, not making eye contact with anyone, started eating immediately. After it became clear that she didn’t intend to interact with anyone until she absolutely had to, the others went back to whatever conversations they’d been having when she arrived. Once her stew was gone, she started methodically sopping up every trace of broth with her bread, leaving the bowl almost clean when her quarter loaf was gone. She was embarrassed by her own behavior, but she just couldn’t deal with whatever this was right now, and she could see the others constantly shooting glances at her.

  She looked long and hard at her ale. If she just kept drinking she wouldn’t need to say anything. She might make a fool of herself if she pushed it past her Vitality, but it might be worth it.

  With a sigh she rejected that idea and looked up. She considered just pulling Messy in and making out with her as a way of keeping the others from talking to her. If she knew her probably-girlfriend, she’d be happy to oblige, no matter the reason. But Messy was in a lively discussion with a man, the officer in charge of militia squad seven. He had more jewelry in his face than Ana had owned in her life, or at least close to it, and Ana couldn’t just interrupt the conversation. That would be rude. So was sitting down and eating without a word, and making out in front of eight of her students and fellow officers without even acknowledging their existence would be even worse, but at least kissing Messy felt good. Some base animal dopamine might be just what she needed.

  Some of the officers had been looking at her more than the others, but it was Simt who finally leaned in and asked, in a conspiratorial whisper, “So, what’s gnawing your guts?”

  What’s gnawing my guts? Ana thought. I’ve been slowly working myself up to accept that I’ll be in the spotlight, but I’d hoped that, somehow, someone else would take the actual lead if I just got things moving. And I can’t help but feel that this meeting is about putting me in a position where all eyes will be on me.

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, putting on her best “everything’s all right” smile. It was one that she’d honed so well that it usually got strangers, those who stopped and asked a teenage girl in dirty clothes and a torn jacket if she needed help, to just keep walking. It failed her this time.

  Simt returned her smile with one that was entirely unconvinced. She did something — Ana could feel mana moving and shaping — and the sound of the room vanished. “Anastasia,” Simt said, speaking at a normal volume. “Please. You’ve got a high Connection, strong emotions, and clearly no training in how to mask them. Every caster in the room knows that you are not fine, no matter what your face says, and anyone who isn’t a caster can tell from the worried glances your girl there keeps shooting you. So: is it just one of those days, or is there anything I can do to help set you at ease before Tellak and Petra come out of the kitchen and we get this started?”

  Old habits kicked in, and Ana laughed. To anyone watching it would look like she was responding to a joke as she said, “Can you just tell me what the hell this is about? Tellak wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Oh! Is that all? Yeah, Telly’s smart, and she means well, but she can be a little dense sometimes. We want you with us when we rescue the farmers. That’s the short of it.”

  Ana’s neck prickled. That didn’t sound right. There was more, and Simt was just trying to put her at ease, she was sure of it. The fact that she got a notification telling her that Sense Motive had reached level 3 basically confirmed it. “What’s the long? What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, still smiling.

  “Oh would you look at that?” Simt said, looking away and dropping the bubble of silence around them. “Here come Tellak and Petra now!”

  Petra wasted no time, as she and Tellak took the chairs that still stood empty. “Thank you all for coming, officers,” she said. “And Mestendi, of course. Most of you know why we’re here. Many of the farms surrounding the outpost lie in ruins. For the rest, who knows how long they’ll stand, or how long the people there can last on their own? As I see it, it is our duty as fellow guild members, and as the leaders of this militia, to relieve them. Successfully rescuing our beleaguered farmers would also do wonders for morale, and hopefully motivate more people to volunteer. Do we all agree so far?”

  There was a chorus of agreement from around the table, including Messy, who banged the table with great enthusiasm. Ana only nodded, a carefully crafted serious, thoughtful look on her face.

  “That said, there are only ten of us. Eleven if we can count on Miss Anastasia.”

  Messy cleared her throat loudly.

  “Sorry, twelve, counting Mestendi. Against the dozen to twenty crazies — thanks for that word, by the way, Miss Cole — usually hanging around our first target, we would almost certainly win, but the odds are not nearly skewed enough in our favor. Remember, we need to win, not only with no losses, but with no injuries. So, we need more people with us. We’ve each spoken to the most capable of each of our groups. Many of them are still undecided. They’re understandably nervous, worried about going into combat, many of them for the first time in their lives.”

  Petra’s eyes stopped on Ana, and they exchanged a long, silent look. Here it comes, Ana thought. In hindsight it had been obvious ever since Tellak mentioned going out to rescue the farmers the previous night, but now Ana knew with absolute certainty what was coming.

  “It might tip the scales, convincing more of them to agree to join us,” Petra said slowly, “if we had the support of the Wayfarer’s chosen.”

  Ana’s facade stayed perfect. She looked for all the world as though she was thinking very carefully about Petra’s words, weighing the truth of them and the pros and cons of agreeing or refusing the request. No one could have known from her expression or her body language that she was screaming on the inside as her last, foolish hope of some kind of partial anonymity died. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want this level of attention. Yet, she knew that she couldn’t say no. Not because of any possible repercussions, but because she knew that they would go with or without her, and if they died because she didn’t help, they would all be royally fucked. And, she had to admit, because she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t do everything she could to help. She couldn’t even tell which motivation was stronger.

  Her mask was flawless. No one could tell by looking at her. She even got a notification telling her that her Acting Skill had reached level 4, giving her a Minor Growth Crystal. And despite her outward cool, six heads at the table turned to look at her with sympathy or alarm. Everyone with a high Connection. Simt even put her hand on Ana’s arm, whispering, “You don’t have to. No one will blame you if you don’t.”

  “That’s all right,” she said calmly, locking away her near-panic deep inside where it couldn’t hurt her yet. She’d just cry her eyes out about it some night, or maybe go turn a tree into pulp with her fists. She might be able to do that now. “I’m with you. So, what’s the plan?”

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