«I think it will have to be something more extreme than this, for me to make that argument. And I’d prefer not to reach that point.»

«You don’t want to leave?» She pushed herself up on one elbow. «But you hate it here.»

«I like my work,» he said. «I like Siebenthal’s, and the Observer. I don’t want to lose this job, and I don’t want to start again with nothing. Especially not now, with Stephen … » A flash of light as he cast up his eyes, toward the bedroom ceiling or the heavens. «I don’t think it is a good time to put him through another transition.»

«And you think he will fare any better here? School will be … he will not have an easy time.»

«None of us will have an easy time,» he said. «No matter what we do. And our finances won’t support a move.»

«We could sell the house. Or … or Damesfort.» She said it swiftly so her aching throat wouldn’t close around the words.

He looked at her gravely. «Lillian. The estate?»

“Hang the estate. It’s only property.” But her voice broke when she said it, cracking against memories of hide-and-seek, fresh strawberries, the last time her family had been under one roof and some semblance of happy.

«You’re the one who doesn’t want to leave,» he said. «We could have stayed in Sunho, but you wanted to come back. You started to talk about it the day Acherby’s government fell.»

Heat crept up her cheeks, and she cursed and welcomed it equally. No one but Jinadh could make her blush like this. Rarely did anyone matter enough to her that they could make her feel ashamed. “I’m so sorry.” She sagged back into the pillows, hiding her face against the flannel case. «I didn’t know how badly it would go. And I dragged you into it.»

«I was not dragged,» he said. «I have learned to dig in my heels, a little bit. I’m here because I love you, and it made you happy to come home. Heaven’s eyes see my own home is far from perfect, but if the same thing were somehow possible for me … » His voice hitched, there, threatening to come apart as hers had. «I would hope for the same consideration from you.»

It never would be, though: Porachis was lost to him forever. He had wanted so badly to escape, but she knew there were things and people that he missed, that he would likely never see again. Her compassion and loyalty would never be tested as his had. She reached for his hand under the covers, and his grip made her bones ache.

«You will have to work,» he said.

«I know.»

«What will you do?» And then, with a tinge of despair, «Will anyone take you?»

Head heavy on the pillow, she wondered the same thing.