At Odds

“Is ‘Ciet here?” Spade burst into the kitchen without so much as a warning. Instead of finding Etna- the daemon he had been looking for, he was startled to find Reyna perched precariously on a bar stool.

He seriously considered retreating. And a very strong drink.

“She’s upstairs.” Reyna did not look up from the tabloid she was flipping through, frowning. Spade took a breath.

“How is she?”

“About as well as someone can be after being caught up in a building collapse.” She paused. “Angry.”

“She hasn’t been heard from in three days.” He deadpanned.

“I was helping with the rescue effort.” Deceit explained, toweling off her hair as she narrowly avoided running into the door frame on her way in. Spade frowned at the sheer number of bruises and stitched lacerations he could see. Whatever he was going to say in response, however, was forgotten as Reyna spoke up.

“They’re canceling funding to emergency rescues.”

“What.” Deceit’s attention snapped towards Reyna.

“Says right here.” Reyna gestured to the tabloid. “Chancellor Bryant and his council’s preliminary vote has been revealed. Funding to emergency service rescues to be decided on after the Summit on the 24th of this month.”