As the dray began the final approach to the parapeted bridge, Malachi could bear it no longer. Drawing his cloak tight, he broke from cover and strode out into the rain. He was soaked through in seconds. Undeterred, he bore down on Rosa and embraced her.

The mists take decorum, anyway.

It was like hugging a statue. Cold, hard and unflinching. Malachi drew back and searched for a hint of recognition in Rosa’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he whispered. No one would hear a thing over the rattle of rain upon cobbles. “What happened? The herald brought your letter, but it said so little.”

Somehow, Rosa’s expression grew bleaker. “What happened? I failed him. When he needed me, I failed him.”

Malachi already regretted asking. Rosa’s expression was too close a match for the one he strove to hide. Kasamor would have known what to say. He’d have made a terrible joke to lighten the mood, to force a smile. Anything.

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Malachi said.

“Where’s Viktor?”

“On the road, to . . .” Malachi cut himself off. That too could wait. “I’ve sent word, but I don’t know when it’ll reach him. May I walk with you the rest of the way?”

The draught horse stamped, no more comfortable in the rain than Malachi. Rosa’s expression twitched with what might have been gratitude, or what might equally have been pain. She nodded.

Malachi took up station on the horse’s opposite flank, and they set off anew. Soldiers fell into step behind the dray. The procession grew with every pace.

King’s Gate was no longer empty when they arrived. Ebigail Kiradin stood beneath the archway, swathed in furs and head high. A Tressian matron greeting tragedy with resolve.

The blonde young woman at her side couldn’t quite match the display. Sevaka Kiradin – arrived fresh off the galleon Triumphal – had much to learn of the concealment of sorrows. That, or she felt Kasamor’s loss more keenly. She was certainly better prepared for the weather than anyone else. The high-collared and long-skirted naval coat would have laughed off a gale’s sodden bounty.

It didn’t escape Malachi’s notice that mother and daughter’s station beneath the arch kept both dray and escort out in the deluge.

“Captain Orova,” Ebigail’s tone held the proper amount of warmth. “You have my thanks for bringing my son home.”

“As was my duty, lady.”

“Now you may set that duty aside. You’ve come a long way, on the hardest of roads. Others can take the burden from here.”

She beckoned, and the nearest soldiers drew near.

Rosa stiffened. “Forgive me, lady, but I’d rather see this through to the end.”