As I returned to my routine, the estate around me appeared to assume its usual condition. Ghosteater disappeared. Williams and Kara went back to Minnesota. Cordus held court weekly.

I knew things weren’t wholly normal, though. Cordus never looked ruffled or distracted, but his desk, once a model of neatness, was increasingly piled with old books and papers. Sometimes strange people visited the estate, and he spent hours talking to them privately. I was certain he was trying to find out more about Eye of the Heavens and Limu’s stolen weapon.

The few times I asked him about it, he shut me down immediately: “That conversation must wait, Miss Ryder,” or, “This is neither the time nor the place, Miss Ryder.” I figured it was Cordus-speak for, Jesus Christ, woman — shut up! So I stopped asking.

It was hard not to feel tense about the situation. Limu scared me. Was he still in New York? Every time we drove into the city for court, I wondered if he was going to pop out of an alley and torch the car. And Justine just weirded me out. She both was and wasn’t my sister-in-law. It was disturbing.

There wasn’t much I could do about Justine and Limu, so I focused on small goals: running a faster forty-yard dash, mastering the ready stance, convincing the stable master to let me go riding.

And I thought about things a lot.

I knew what had happened had changed me. Heck, that much was obvious: my life had been altered in nearly every way I could imagine. But my experience in the S-Em had done something on a different order of magnitude. It had reached way down deep inside me and shifted something. The closest I could come to pinning it down was this: death had come for me on that sand bank, and I’d said “no,” and death had listened.

I’d survived. I’d won.

It wasn’t a pure feeling. It was mixed with guilt and horror at what I’d done, with frustration at my mistakes, with anger at all that had been done to me, and with fear of what the future would bring.

But despite the guilt and anger and doubt, I still felt like I’d made it over some kind of hurdle. I knew it was important, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. That I was on my way to something, maybe. But what?

I looked up at Gwen, seeking reassurance.

“S’okay,” she said. “He really is helpless. You’ll see.”

I nodded and knocked on the door she was guarding.

“Come in.”

I opened the door slowly and peeked around it. Graham was sitting on a couch at the far end of the room. He looked surprised to see me.

I stepped in, closing the door behind me. I approached the sitting area and chose an armchair.

Long seconds of uncomfortable silence followed.

“How are you?” he said.