It was hard to imagine any confluence of circumstance where pretending her husband was dead would benefit her or her agenda, or even benefit the city.

Easier to believe she wanted to protect the Harbinger boys who had the same power and weakness.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Because of her message, we rushed where we normally wouldn’t, we trusted her, Kurt went to open the door for me and his body shielded me from the worst of the blast. The boys came and administered medical care. She killed him. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I want to hear the context, or… anything that fills in the gaps. Sheds light on how she thinks.”

“You could have just asked. We were acquainted.”

“I’ll ask in a moment, if that’s okay. I just… do you know why?”

“It’s impossible to know anything for certain when it comes to that woman. If she wants you to reach another conclusion, she’ll ensure it.”

“I’d like to take a shot at it,” I said.

“She apologized. She said she was hurrying to act against Teacher, and she didn’t double-check the outcome.”

“Her waking up from Teacher’s influence meant she had to reset, rebuild her infrastructure of checks and balances. Starting with herself. She extended out from there by using the tools in reach. My team. Heartbroken. Wardens.”

“Makes sense.”

“But you weren’t in reach.”

“It’s not about reach, like you picture.”

“Ease?”

“Everything’s easy for her. If she wanted you to die in this room at a specific time with a… I don’t know, a specific antique pen jabbed into your eye socket, she could do that easily. A few statements and actions taken at the right times and places.”

I was aware that I was broaching a delicate subject with Citrine, and that seemed to coincide with the sudden emergence of a violent hypothetical situation.

“What then? Time?”

“Time. The number of steps required. All easy, but why do in twelve steps what you could do in three? Sending someone we know with a specific message we’re inclined to trust may be easier than any number of distractions she had at her disposal, to corner Teacher. She didn’t have the time and she took the most expedient route. We accepted her apology. The children and I.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“No, Antares,” Citrine said. Her demeanor remained queenly, but I could imagine she was the type, now, who would order beheadings. “Not ‘just’ like that. But we know what we keep company with.”

“And as a person? I said I’d ask.”

“As a person… stunted. Limited. Childlike. Composed, certainly. Graceful. Proud. Educated, even. But not fully formed. She may never be. Maybe that’s just.”

So much for forgiving her.