The light through the windows had tilted toward sunset, a crack in the clouds. Tennal’s face was shadowed, and the glass around him was a gentle reddish gold. He was also all around Surit, threaded through every one of his thoughts, eroding his walls like sand. Surit felt affection, and dread, and a bone-deep aversion to seeing his home without his aunt. That was the point at which Surit realized they were, once again, inextricable. He couldn’t even start to detangle their thoughts. There had to be an end at some point.

“There has to be an end somewhere,” Tennal echoed out loud, “but let’s cause some trouble first.” He gave Surit a half smile. “Time to go home.”

CHAPTER 32

Beneath the shadow of the Codifier Halls was a tiny walled garden that held the Legislator’s Residence. The back entrance was a nondescript wooden gate set between the stones in the old wall. As they approached, Tennal waved his wristband. The protective force field dissipated, and the old gate swung open for him.

When Surit stepped into the garden, it was full of shadows and sunset light. Bushes higher than his head covered crumbling walls. He stopped and listened for movement as an evening bird called softly and repetitively from a tree. The air tasted of humidity and respiring leaves and, somewhere, citrus flowers. Surit, who had only breathed the dry air of ships for years now, was sharply reminded of being ten years old in his village again.

“Are there guards?” Istara said under their breath. “This is the Legislator’s Residence.”

“I’m checking,” Tennal said, just as quietly. “Give me a moment.”

Tennal closed his eyes. That was unusual: Surit knew Tennal was reaching out with his reader powers, but normally Tennal was strong enough to read without making a show of it.

Tennal was too distracted to concentrate. He and Surit were merged enough that, in an instant, Surit understood the problem. It was the garden. The moment they’d stepped into it, a shiver had gone down Tennal’s back that Surit had felt on his own skin. The plant scents, the hanging shadows, the outline of the house: they were all tied up with a complicated longing deep in Tennal’s bones. Home. That was where Surit’s own wistfulness was coming from. Tennal had come home.

Basavi, who had also closed her eyes, opened them and broke the silence. “Around the front.”

They all stared at her. It took Tennal and Surit a moment to figure out they were using one joint pair of eyes to do that, and while they got themselves sorted out, Istara said, “Did you just—”

“Two people, I think?” Basavi said uncertainly. She touched her temple, looking faintly embarrassed. She was a reader, Surit remembered belatedly. She’d just used her reader senses.

“Basavi,” Istara said, sounding shocked and delighted.