We walked shoulder to shoulder down the middle of the street, our boots hitting the cobblestones in a synchronized rhythm. I’d never walked with him like that. Never stood beside him or talked to him anywhere except on the Lark or in his post. People watched us as we passed, and I wondered if they could see him in me or me in him. If there was some visible echo between us that told people who we were. It felt strange. It felt good.

For the first time in my life I wasn’t hiding, and neither was he.

He stopped beneath the swinging sign of a tavern and opened the door before we both ducked inside.

The barkeep stood up from the stool where he was writing in the ledgers and tightened the straps of his apron. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Saint echoed, helping himself to a small table before the largest window. It looked out over the street, just the way he liked. “Pot of tea, please.”

I took the seat beside him, unbuttoning my jacket and setting my elbows onto the table. He said nothing, watching out the window with squinted eyes as the gold light swelled behind the glass. He wasn’t the awkward knot of tension that he’d always been.

When the barkeep set down a plate of toast, Saint picked up a knife and carefully spread it with butter.

It was an easy silence. A comfortable one. All the questions I ever wanted to ask him swirled in my head, spinning so fast that I could hardly untangle them from one another. But they never found their way to my tongue. Suddenly, it seemed, I didn’t need to ask them. Suddenly, none of it mattered.

A blue porcelain teapot landed between us and the barkeep set down two cups and saucers, taking care to straighten them so they lined up neatly. When he was satisfied, he left us with a dutiful nod.

I picked up the pot and filled Saint’s cup first. The steam from the black tea curled up before him. He was most familiar that way, concealed behind some kind of veil. Never fully in focus.

“I was afraid yesterday that you wouldn’t show.” I slid the saucer toward him.

He picked up the spoon beside his plate and stirred his tea slowly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“No,” I answered as I realized it.

Some part of me had known he’d come. And I wasn’t sure why, because I had no reason to trust him.