She reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. Tristam squeezed back, and then, without breaking his gaze, raised her hand to his lips. “Until then.”

Kyra smiled despite herself, suddenly shy, and took her leave. She could sense Tristam watching her as she walked, and the touch of his lips lingered on her hand well after she turned the corner. She wandered the city without thought, meandering past markets and houses and enjoying the sunlight. Eventually, she found herself in the fire-damaged district. The worst of the wreckage was cleared away by now, and the streets were cleaned of debris. The charred frame of The Drunken Dog, however, still remained. Kyra stood at the threshold for a moment, tempted to go in, but turned away.

She continued to the stone market building where they’d waited out the Demon Rider attack. In front of the building, people had set up a memorial. Stones, flowers, and parchments with names of the perished were piled by the door. Kyra crouched before the stones and tried to read off the faded parchments. She saw the name of a serving girl at The Drunken Dog, as well as the baker’s son. She grabbed a parchment that had faded almost completely away. There were no bits of charcoal nearby, so she contented herself with tracing Bella’s name out with her finger.

“I figured you’d be here,” said a familiar voice.

Kyra moved aside to make room for Flick. “I wanted to pay my respects, now that I’m free.”

“She’d be glad to see you safely back.”

“I wish she was still here.”

For a while, they stood in silence, contemplating the memorial. Finally, Flick spoke again.

“So, the cat thing,” he said. “Have you tried it since?” Flick had taken the news of Kyra’s parentage surprisingly in stride. After the initial shock, he’d told Kyra that he wasn’t that surprised. Too many years of watching Kyra do the impossible, he supposed.

Kyra shook her head. “It in’t safe with people nearby, without the clan to teach me. But even if I did have help, I don’t know if I’d want to.”

“Why?”

Kyra twisted her tunic in her hands, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “When I worked for the Guild, I was shocked by their violence. I worried they would change me, but I pushed my worries aside because it was easier. And because of that, I’ll always have innocent blood on my hands. You weren’t there at the man’s funeral, Flick. His wife, his children, their lives changed forever because I ignored my doubts.”