He bowed his head and drew me close again. ::I’m not the only one who’s experienced loss. You have, too.::

My throat went tight.

::I heard you in the parlor. I should have come to see you, but I wasn’t sure how to talk about it yet. My anger. Grief. Voice.::

::Damina’s book says we aren’t owed the inner workings of anyone else’s heart.::

::But it does say love leans on others for strength, and to embrace those who need support.::

I couldn’t stop my surprised stare.

::Hristo let me read his copy.:: A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. ::He thought it might help.::

::Has it?:: Reading The Book of Love always helped me feel better, but I was from Damina. The words were burned into my blood.

He nodded. ::I didn’t think it would, but it has.::

“You’re not alone,” I whispered. “No matter what it feels like, you’re not alone. You have me.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You have me, too.”

PEOPLE CONTINUED TO move around the ballroom in tight clumps, watching one another, whispering, studying. Though a significant number of the guests had been taken from their islands—perhaps against their wills, like Mother—their behavior was normal.

::Maybe Nine isn’t here,:: Aaru said. ::Maybe Seven was wrong.::

I twisted my fingers with his as we wandered around the ballroom, watching people without watching people. Was anyone paying us unusual attention? We’d made a scene earlier. If Nine was here, that alone probably made them want to avoid us.

::The guard is staring.:: Aaru glanced up and flashed a placating smile in her direction. ::I think she’s still angry. She’s probably waiting for us to start another fight.::

Or . . .

“I think it’s time to go,” I murmured. “But first, we have an apology to make.”

Aaru shot me a curious look, but he followed when I walked toward the female guard from earlier.

There was no humor in her eyes as she watched our approach. “What?”

My heart was pounding, but I steadied my voice and said, “We wanted to apologize for our behavior earlier. It was unbecoming. Inappropriate.”

The guard glared at me. “Just don’t do it again.”

I offered a winning smile. “Seven out of nine times, we’re really well behaved. Promise.”

Her glare narrowed into suspicious slits. “You need to leave here. Now.”

“But—”

Nine—surely she had to be Nine—glanced at the next guard over. “I’m escorting these two out.”

The other guard nodded, and before I could protest again, Nine was marching us toward the door. We drew a few curious eyes, and heat crawled up my face. If I’d been here as myself, the humiliation of being asked to leave the ball might have killed me. Even in disguise, I could feel Mother’s judgment.

But instead of taking us outside, Nine led us to a small room—away from servants or guards. Chairs, tables, and other furniture crowded the space, but we all squeezed in, and finally Nine whispered, “Who are you?” Her hand rested on the dagger at her hip, and I had no doubt she was more than capable of using it. But I could feel the buzz of noorestones nearby—three inside the room, and fifteen more just outside.