Cursing herself and her giddy heart, Kit opened the letter with fingers that trembled. They had not communicated since she had returned his last summons with a curt negative. She had not been able to convince herself that she would never see him again; she had not been able to forget he was alive, in the city, a few miles distant. Three times—she was humiliated to realize she could not stop herself—she had gone to the Complex merely to walk past it, to assure herself that it was still standing and that Jex, therefore, must still be whole and breathing. And yet he would never send for her, she knew this. And she could not forgive him. And so there was no hope and, in the whole world, no joy at all.

But here. A note from Jex. And it said: “Come to me today. I need to see you. Please.” She stared, read it again, and a third time. She had never heard Jex utter the word please. She had not thought it was in his vocabulary. It was possible, she thought, her brain idly toying with this concept while her body turned to fire and her heart went yapping against her ribs, it was possible that she had never heard a guldman use the word. Only the timid and fearful guldwomen were ever reduced to begging. And Jex had written it out with his usual bold stroke, and it meant in his hand what it meant in anybody’s, and of course she would go to him. There was simply no question.

Twenty minutes later, she was in a ringcar, breaking all speed records as she dipped and snaked through traffic in the Centrifuge. One car wobbled and nearly skidded into the curved wall as she darted around it with scarcely enough room to spare. The driver, an older indigo man whose white hair contrasted sharply with his blue skin, stared out at her, aghast and terrified. Remorse made Kit slow down sharply and drive with more care. She did not want to kill herself, after all, before she saw Jex one more time.

Still, she was so eager that she could have outrun the trolley (which moved more slowly, she was sure, than a crippled man on his knees), and she had to force herself to await the elevator at the Complex rather than racing up the stairs. She wanted to appear before Jex with at least a shred of dignity, a semblance of calm.

The same sour guard admitted her with the same obvious disapproval, and she stepped into Jex’s apartment, trying not to hold a hand to her anxious heart. He was waiting by the door. It had not even shut behind her before he took her into a crushing embrace.