The morning fractures. Strawberry jam shatters red across the floor. My hands shake worse. Can barely hold the needles. Just this row, then bind off—
"I've returned."
Everyone freezes.
Joss stands in the doorway looking exactly like yesterday when she led me to be burned alive. Perfect leather coat, not a hair out of place. Carrying that ledger where she tracks everyone's weaknesses.
My stomach clenches. Twenty years with Ruvan. Twenty years of friendship, and yesterday she handed me over like I was inventory to manage.
"Breakfast. Sit. You're probably hungry."
She blinks. "I need to speak with Ruvan."
"After food. Everyone eats first. That's the rule." My fingers keep moving though they're numb now. Too much healing yesterday. Too much light poured out. "Sit."
"I don't think—"
"Sit." The word comes out harder than intended. "Vice, set a place. Not the chipped plate—Ridge pretends he doesn't have a favorite but he always takes that one."
Joss sits. Everyone watches. Thomas stands there with the spoon dripping shell and raw egg. The new people don't understand but they know something's happening.
"Tea?" Arthur's voice sounds pleasant if you don't know him. But I know that tone from childhood, right before something unfortunate happened to whoever hurt me.
"Water. You look dehydrated. That tight look around your eyes."
She stares. They all stare. I stare at the hat because if I look at her I'll remember her smile when she handed me over. How she said it was for Ruvan's own good.
Breakfast happens in pieces. People eat uncomfortably. Vice writes down exact burning times for each piece of toast. The former Radiant Court members try so hard they make everything worse, but that's how you learn.
"You gave me to them." Working the last stitch. Casual, like discussing weather. "To be burned from the inside. That seems unnecessarily mean."
"It was necessary." She's not eating. Her eggs are developing that skin. "For the guild."
"The guild needs regular meals and vegetables. Did you know Splice can't digest dairy? Years of stomach pain."
"This is exactly—" She waves at the kitchen, at former enemies sharing burnt toast. "This isn't the Shadow Guild."
"It is now." Standing takes effort. Arthur steadies me. "Tonight we're having dinner. Everyone. You'll sit and eat and see what you tried to destroy."
"I tried to save—"
"You tried to kill me because you thought caring makes people weak." The room tilts. When did I last eat? "But Ruvan's always been terrible. Now he's just terrible with meal schedules."
Ruvan appears and the temperature drops. He looks at Joss and something shifts in his face—hurt, fury, worse.
"Twenty years," he says quietly.
"Twenty years of watching you go soft."
"Here." I push the hat at him before someone starts bleeding in my kitchen. "Finished. Your ears get cold."
He looks at the hat, then puts it on right there with everyone watching. It fits perfectly, covering those ears that go red in winter.
"It's perfect," he says, voice rough.
"It's practical." I sit because standing is over. "Joss, eat your eggs. They have skin now."
She eats. We all eat. The worst breakfast imaginable—sixty people watching a friendship die over eggs and burnt toast.
