Maybe she grieves for Raina too, will feel a lifetime of guilt for telling Constantine to arrest them. Maybe she and the Chief Architect had been true friends, if opposed in their beliefs.

Nearby, Adena argues with a soldier about what tools she needs by morning in order to make a series of distractions that can help us break into the palace tomorrow. Somehow, even after everything that has happened, she finds a way to dive into productivity. Even though her shoulders are slumped in exhaustion as she reaches her room, she still pulls two blades from her belt and sets into polishing them in preparation for tomorrow.

“What?” she mumbles when she sees me looking.

I just smile and shake my head. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the hint of a grin at the edges of her lips. It’s the return of our old rhythm, and I find myself leaning into her warmth. I watch her a moment longer, admiring the grace of her hands, before moving on.

Jeran talks in soft voices with Aramin. I notice them sitting across from each other in one of their chambers, their hands close enough to touch, and pause, lingering for a moment to see the look that passes between them. Jeran says something to Aramin, a question. Aramin’s brows lift in surprise, and then he laughs. I do not think I ever remember him laughing. Jeran seems surprised by the sound too, but then he smiles, leaning unconsciously into the figure of his former Firstblade.

I turn away from them and continue down the hall. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m looking for Red. He had left for the inner rooms of the estate earlier, to get his bandages changed, and I hadn’t seen him since.

As I head inside, my mother looks up from where she’s helping another rebel with an injured hand. She shoots me a brief smile, signing to me with her good hand that she’s fine, that I should go look for Red.

A fresh surge of anger comes through me as I glance again at her bandaged hand. Constantine’s cruelty is always intentional and targeted. He knew what damaging my mother’s hands could do to the way we communicated, that it would forever remind me of what had happened to her. I chew my inner cheek as I head inside, trying to ignore the tug of Constantine’s mind forever at the other end of our bond.

Through our link, I sense Red’s heartbeat, steady and reliable as ever. I quiet, listening for it, wondering if he wants to be alone, before I finally notice it becoming more prominent the closer I edge to the window overlooking the estate’s back courtyard. Outside, the tumultuous evening has settled into night, and against the sky, I can still see the faint glow of fires coming from the inner city. In a couple of hours, we will head back out there, ready to commit ourselves to ending the Premier once and for all. But right now, we are here in this strange suspension of time, an odd peace against the chaos beyond.