Sothe, as always uncomfortable with such displays of emotion, patted Raesinia awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re well. My mission was successful, I think, until . . .” She lowered her voice. “We were attacked. One man, but he was . . . exceptional. I believe he may have been a Penitent Damned. By now they certainly know that you were never there, and they may know you never left the city. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Raesinia whispered. “It was never going to hold up indefinitely.” Ionkovo had seen her, in any case, so the word was out. “I’m just glad to have you back. We tried to send you a warning, but . . .”

Marcus, a bit slower down the ladder, pushed his way through the crowd and stopped facing the two of them. Raesinia disentangled herself from Sothe and put on a more dignified face.

“I’m not sure the two of you have been formally introduced,” Raesinia said. “Marcus, this is Sothe, my head of household and close personal friend.” Sothe shifted uncomfortably at this description, but Raesinia didn’t give her a chance to object. “Sothe, this is Colonel Marcus d’Ivoire, also my friend and Janus’ personal representative.”

Marcus, also looking a bit awkward, let courtesy come to the fore and bowed. “Miss Sothe. Last time I saw you, you were fighting a half dozen Noreldrai Grays with admirable efficiency. I regret I was unable to render more effective assistance.”

“I believe the last time you saw me, I was lying bleeding on the floor,” Sothe said. “But thank you. You have my gratitude for keeping Raesinia safe.”

“We need to talk,” Raesinia said. “All of us. But—”

“Not here,” Sothe said, looking at the teeming refugees. “And not now. I’ve been three days on the road without sleep, so my contributions would likely be . . . minimal.”

“Oh!” Raesinia silently cursed Sothe’s stoicism. She’d probably keep chatting until she dropped from exhaustion. She pointed across the room. “Use my bed. Or would you rather eat first?”

“Sleep,” Sothe said. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me?”

Raesinia nodded, and Sothe slipped into the crowd, moving like a ghost in spite of the tight quarters and her injuries. Marcus looked after her and shook his head, his expression thoughtful.

“‘Head of household’?” He looked quizzically at Raesinia. “Someday you’re going to have to explain to me where you found her.”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Raesinia said. “It’s not my story to tell.”

*   *   *

MARCUS

Marcus had not been sleeping well.