Riley wanted one patch of land where women could love women without hiding. She had searched for a month. Every meadow she found sat beneath a crown road. Every hollow faced a watchtower. This morning she crouched in tall grass near a stream, and two patrol riders trotted past the far bank. She pressed flat until their hooves faded. The spot was perfect for her haven. It was also in plain sight. "They patrol this fork twice a day," Riley whispered. "We can't build here." Behind her knelt Vera, the pale scribe who had followed Riley from the capital. Vera recorded everything Riley said in a small book, her ink-stained fingers never still. She loved Riley and had never said so. Instead she kept notes, mapped routes, and trembled whenever soldiers came near. She was trembling now. Faint gold light bled through her skin, like a candle behind paper. "Stop glowing," Riley hissed, not unkindly. "They'll see you." Vera pressed her sleeves to her arms. The light dimmed. She turned back a page in her book and tapped it. "You crossed out every open field," she said. "But you never checked the old quarry. No roads lead there. The crown stopped mining it years ago." Riley sat up. "Because the walls are too steep for wagons." "Too steep for patrols too," Vera said. Her voice shook, but she held Riley's eyes. "One path down. Rock on every side. Nobody looks into a pit." Riley stared at her. A hidden bowl of stone. Walls that hid instead of exposed. She grabbed Vera's wrist. "Show me." They reached the quarry by dusk. Riley climbed down the single path and stood at the bottom. Sheer gray walls rose on all sides. She could not see the road. She could not see a tower. She turned in a slow circle and saw only sky above and stone around. For the first time in a month, no one could watch her. "This is it," Riley said. Her voice cracked. "We build here." Vera smiled for the first time all day. She wrote one line, then showed Riley the page. It read: Home. Riley hauled the folded tent from her pack. She raised it against the quarry wall. Painted hearts and bright color spread across the fabric, bold and unafraid. In the pit, no patrol would ever see it. She ran her hand down the cloth and let herself breathe. Then she noticed the dark line at the base of the far wall. Water seeped from the rock and pooled across the quarry floor. The old pit was flooding from below. The one place the crown could not reach was slowly filling with water. Riley looked at the rising pool, then at her tent, then at Vera. "How long," she said, "before this whole floor is a lake?"