Without stopping, Warden locked the door, turned off the gramophone, and drew the drapes on both sides of the chamber. He watched through a gap at the east window for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the street. I let the backpack drop to the floor. The straps had cut into my shoulders.

“I killed him.”

He glanced at me. “Who?”

“Kraz. I shot him.” I was shaking all over. “I’ve killed a Sargas—she’s going to kill me. You’re going to kill me—”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“A Sargas is no loss to me.” He looked back at the window. “You are quite sure he is dead.”

“Of course he’s dead. I shot him in the face.”

“Bullets cannot kill us. You must have used the pollen.”

“Yes.” I tried to slow my breathing. “Yes, I did.”

He didn’t speak for a long time. I sat there in the evidence, my lungs fit to burst. “If a Sargas has been killed by a human,” he finally said, “the last thing Nashira will want is for word of it to get out into the city. Our immortality must not be questioned.”

“You’re really not immortal?”

“We are not indestructible.” He crouched in front of me, looked me in the eye. “Did anyone see you?”

“No. Wait, yes—Terebell.”

“Terebell will keep your secret. If she was the only one, we have nothing to fear.”

“Thuban was there, too. There was an explosion.” I looked up at him. “Do you know anything about that?”

“I sensed you were in danger. I had someone standing by in the House. They caused a distraction. All Nashira will hear is that a candle was left too close to a gas leak.”

The news did little to comfort me. That was three lives I’d taken now, not counting the ones I’d failed to save.

“You are bleeding.”

I glanced into the bathroom mirror, visible through the open door. A long, shallow cut crossed my cheek. Just deep enough to bring blood welling to the surface. “Yes,” I said.

“He hurt you.”

“It was just some glass.” I touched the smarting cut. “Will you find out what happened?”

He nodded, still looking at my cheek. There was something in his eyes that struck me: a darkness, a tension. He was thinking of something else. He wouldn’t meet my gaze; the wound transfixed him.

“This will scar if it is not treated.” His gloved fingers held my jaw. “I will bring something to clean it.”

“And you’ll find out about Kraz.”

“Yes.”

Our gazes met for the briefest instant. My brow creased, and my lips formed a question.

In the end I didn’t ask it.

“I will return as soon as I can.” He stood. “I recommend you clean yourself. There are clothes in there.”