“I need a favor.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Sleep with me,” she said.
Now he was surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “Do you mean, have sex with you?”
“Yes.”
“As a favor?”
“I can’t sleep. I’m stressed out beyond anything. I can’t get my mind to stop spinning—”
“Why do I feel like this isn’t how you seduce other people?” he said indignantly.
“There’s nothing I can do,” she said. “I need a distraction. You don’t have to worry, I won’t confuse what it means. We can do it, maybe we’ll both like it, and maybe my mind will stop, and afterward I’ll sleep. I mean, I’m not assuming you want to. But if it sounds okay, would you please sleep with me?”
“Lovisa,” he said, his face still taut with surprise. “It’s a bad idea. We’ve been friends forever.”
“So? That’s why I came to you.”
“I want to keep being friends forever,” he said. “I don’t want to complicate things.”
“It’s not complicated,” she said. “I know you’re in love with Nev. You know I’m not in love with you. What’s complicated?”
“But I don’t want to change things!”
“If I don’t sleep,” Lovisa said, “I’m going to lose my mind.”
Mari studied Lovisa for a moment, like he was trying to diagnose a complicated case. He’d always played doctor when they were little, loved to treat stomachaches or headaches or remove a splinter from her foot with great ceremony, as if it were a dangerous operation. She’d always liked it too, though she’d never admitted it to him. Mari was gentle, careful. It was nice to feel focused on, cared for.
Then he went to a chest at the foot of his bed and fumbled around inside it for a while. His hands emerged with a large wooden box. Sitting on the rug, he pulled a number of folded wooden boards from the box. Unfolded, they hooked together to make a carved map of city blocks, some containing ambles, some containing school buildings, some with government buildings, some with residences, hospitals, a dock area, and so on.
“Play City with me,” he said. “If you can’t sleep after that, we’ll talk about it.”
“You still have your City board?”
Dropping to the floor beside him, she fingered the pile of small, brightly clothed figurines that represented different kinds of people: shopkeepers, professors, sailors, guards, house staff, scientists, society figures, Parliamentary representatives, and so on. Their bodies were made of wood stained brown like her hands, their faces carefully carved, but their clothing was real fabric, their hair dark patches of felted wool. There was also a pile of carved wooden foxes.
“These are the same pieces we played with when we were six,” she said, fingering the worn silk suit of a society man.
“I’m sentimental, okay?”
“I don’t remember all the rules.”
“You want a straight, uninterrupted line of five of the right kind of person on the right kind of street,” he said. “You try to build your lines and interrupt my lines. Merchants, sailors, society people, and students can be shopping. House staff, foxes, and Parliament reps can go anywhere. Professors, students, and—”
“I remember all that,” said Lovisa.
“If one of us manages a line of five,” said Mari, “that person wins. But if you’re certain you’re losing, then it’s better to let me win, because if no one wins, then we’re not taking care of the earth and the Keeper rises up and crushes us all.”
“I never got that part,” said Lovisa. “If I’m going to lose, why shouldn’t you be crushed?”
“Cavenda family motto?” said Mari.
Lovisa tried hard for an amused expression. She didn’t think she succeeded, and she was pretty sure Mari noticed. But he said nothing, just divided the figurines between them. The foxes were plain wooden carvings with no fur or clothing, but tiny yellow gemstones made their eyes. One had a downturned nose and a quizzical expression and was stained darker than the others. Lovisa had always liked that one best in Mari’s set. She also favored one of the sailors who wore a bright pink shirt with a red scarf and one of the wealthy ladies who had a perfect tiny amethyst at her throat. But she wasn’t going to ask Mari for them. She wasn’t six anymore.
He remembered and gave them to her anyway.
“You want to start?” he asked.
“This is a weird alternative to sex.”
“Let’s just play, okay? And tell me why you’re so stressed out. Is it about Pari? I heard a rumor.”
Lovisa took a breath. “What rumor?”
“That he’s left for the Royal Continent,” said Mari. “He was failing a couple of his classes and decided he’d rather leave than fail out. A spontaneous adventure.”
“Without saying goodbye to anyone?” Lovisa said, because it seemed like what she would say, were this news to her.
“Yeah. Did he mention any of this last night?”
Lovisa focused on placing her pieces on the board. “There wasn’t a lot of talking.”
“Ew,” said Mari. “And again, you came here to seduce me? Your technique needs work.”
“I wouldn’t try to seduce you, Mari,” she said sharply. “If we have sex, it won’t be because I lie.”
“Seduction doesn’t necessitate lying, you know.”
“Whatever. Do you really like Pari?”
“He’s had a hard go of it. You know that. His mother is dead, his father is always abroad, and when he’s not abroad he isn’t a nice person.”
“Pari is a spoiled, rich, arrogant Ledra boy,” Lovisa said.
“So am I,” said Mari, with a small smile.
“But he’s mean.”
“Maybe I would be mean, if I had an unkind father.”
A tear was suddenly rolling down Lovisa’s face, fueled by exhaustion, confusion, and now, resentment at the ease with which Mari always inhabited kindness. His parents were kind. His life had been kind to him. He was handsome, and smart, and big, and popular, and everyone trusted and liked him. He had no ambition beyond what was expected of him, and what was expected of him was that he do what he liked. It cost him nothing to think kindly of mean people; it was instinctive for him. And his kindness made Lovisa feel like the lowest possible type of person, the kind of person who came from parents like hers. And now it was her fault that people were dead.