My heart swells at the thought of my friends standing guard. "You didn't have to⁠—"

"Of course we did," Mireen interrupts, her typical smile replaced by unusual seriousness. "There's a siphon loose in Confluence, Nessa. One that specifically targeted you and Raith."

I take her words in stride before realization stabs at me. She knows about the siphon. That means Raith had to have told her…

I glance at Raith, who remains expressionless. "How much did you tell them?"

Raith hesitates. "I was... not myself when I saw the state you were in."

"He was so worried about you," Mireen cuts in, a gleam in her eye that I recognize all too well. "I do feel a little bad for taking advantage of his state. But we may have pressed him for information a little... forcefully."

I frown. "What the hells does that mean?"

Raith runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "If there was a chance of telling them saving you, it was one I wanted to take. So I told them what I knew about you. All of it. You can be pissed if you want, but at least you're alive."

My stomach clenches, a cold dread spreading through me. I look to Mireen, expecting betrayal or anger on her face, but all I see is sympathy and hurt.

"You should have told us, Nessa. We could've been supporting you. Unbound? Siphons hunting you? Private lessons with Voss?" She shakes her head. "Gods, girl. I don't know how you kept it all to yourself."

I sink deeper into the bed, guilt washing over me. "I worried all of it would drag you guys into my mess. I didn't want any of you hurt because of me."

Mireen finally lowers her eyes and chews a corner of her lip, as if choosing her words carefully. "It did sting to know how much you hid from us. But only because we're your friends, Nessa. You should have known we'd want to take on that burden if it meant being able to help you more." She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. "So don't ever feel like you need to hide things to keep us safe again, okay? We're stronger together."

Her voice is adorably stern, even though she's stroking my hand reassuringly and leaning over me like a worried mother. Cool, refreshing waves of her water essence flow through the touch. She looks at our hands, eyebrows twitching up. “So that’s what the feeling always is when we touch. You know, I used to get offended that you never would let me hug you and flinched away when I tried to touch you. Now I get it.”

"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate compared to the weight of what I've kept from them.