I sucked in a breath, and Sanjeet noticed, eyes shading with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“I assume you know Zuri’s secret. I didn’t know he was the Crocodile until that day in Djbanti. But I’d been obsessed with the vigilante for a while, sending spies to track his movements. I visited the sites of his demonstrations, talked to the commoners there. And after a while . . . I can’t explain it, Tar. But the more I saw—the children pulled from mills and quarries, the hope in peasants’ eyes . . . It was like something woke inside me. Passion—something I’ve been afraid of my whole life. I knew how dangerous it was to long for change, especially change of a system, something beyond any one person’s control. But I couldn’t help it. For the first time I felt . . . restless. I chafed at the apathy of others, chafed at all the time I had wasted. That’s when I sent you that spear. I finally felt like I understood you, just a little bit. And I wanted to say I was sorry.” He bit his lip. “But I couldn’t come back. Not yet. My spies brought word of a revolution planned in Djbanti, the day of your Pinnacle. I thought of sending word to you, but didn’t want to risk such a message being intercepted. I knew I had to go. Not to protect you—you haven’t needed that in a long time. But to help those peasants, however I could. So I doffed my uniform and hid my seal ring. Some of my warriors, also in plainclothes, volunteered to go with me. And it looked like we came just in time.”

He paused, watching my face. I swallowed, unable to hide the grief there, and he nodded.

“We weren’t able to recover his body,” he said quietly. “Apparently the peasants took it, and no one’s seen it since. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose a council brother. Well, I can, after Dayo almost died, but—” He shook his head, his voice going carefully toneless. “I heard rumors that what you had with Zuri was special. From what I’ve heard of the Crocodile, I’d guess you two had a lot in common.”

“He was like my braver twin,” I said after a long, heavy pause. I smiled weakly. “He used me, and I hated that. But even more, I hated that I understood him. His anger. His pain, loneliness. Zuri was more of a hero than I’ll ever be.” I bit my lip. “I’ve never met anyone like him. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Sanjeet avoided my gaze then, fighting to keep his face emotionless. “I’m glad he was there for you.” A beat passed. “I’m glad you had someone who stood with you, instead of standing by.”

I moved through the water, closing the space between us and resting my head against his. “Jeet.”

“I was insufferable,” he said softly. “And—” He frowned, swallowed, then said the words in a rush. “I can’t beat a dead man’s memory. Zuri understood you. He didn’t leave you, for Am’s sake, or try to cage who you are—”