Lamps were already lit in the main room. It was a spacious room, with a fireplace on one side, and a stove on the other. A couch, its back to me, and a clutch of overstuffed chairs filled half the room. A table against one wall was covered in detritus: shirts, spools of wire, rags, some unwashed teacups. “Hello?”

The apartment stayed silent. I dropped my pack and crept further into the room, exploring it timidly, gingerly. I was swimming in bitterness just then, angry at Vathorem for leaving me there, angry at myself for having let myself be left, angry at whoever was clearly living in this apartment. “Hello?”

A figure stirred on the couch. A moan of forsaken sleep filled the silence. Short red hair came into view. An arm stretched up, up toward the ceiling, the fingers splayed and reaching. The arm was a dark, dark gray. The length of the fingers and the odd dance they performed was inescapably familiar. “Sorcha?” It came out a half-whisper. It came out full of hope and tenderness.

His face whipped around. His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. “Fucking hell! Ariah?”

I have never been so happy to see someone. There are times where emotions are so total, so encompassing, that they transcend language. This was one of those times. I leapt over the back of the couch. I slammed into him, clutching him tight, and we tumbled off the couch together. He laughed, and, oh, the familiarity of that laugh was such a comfort. “Fucking hell,” he said again, but softer this time, with wonder threaded through his voice. He ran a hand through my hair. I struggled with a strange and unforeseen desire to kiss him.

We were a tangle of limbs. I lay half on top of him, drunk on the smell of him. He was right there, just beneath me, exactly as I remembered him. I felt a thousand things in that moment, all confused, but all good. “What are you doing here?”

Sorcha laughed. He sat up against the couch. “What am I doing here? Fuck, Ariah, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for…I, uh, I’m here for…”

He laughed again, and cupped my cheek. “Ah, don’t worry, you can tell me later. You know why I’m here. Remember? Came with a crew to play the houses here.”

“You’ve been here all this time?”

“Yeah. Hey, what’re you doing in this spot, though? This is Kelli’s place. My pa’s best mate Kel, this is his place.”

“Vathorem…”

His eyes went wide. “Vathorem?”

“Yes?”

“Right-hand Vathorem? That Vathorem?”

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. He nodded, frowned slightly, and stood up. “Ah. Ah, I see. I see. This is another thing ’tween you and him, eh? I don’t understand you. You’re your own man, Ariah. You’re not Lor. You don’t have to follow in his footsteps.”