Caspian held out his hand.
This time, he did not ask.
This time, I did not wait for him to.
I took it.
50
The door behind us opened first.
Caswell stood in the corridor with two Council stewards behind him and a lamp in his hand. The lamp was unnecessary. Morning had already begun to gray the narrow window above the hall, but Council men liked carrying light into dark places they had made.
His eyes went to Caspian’s hand in mine.
He did not tell us to let go.
“Verita,” Caswell said. “Ashford.”
“Caswell,” I said.
His mouth pulled tight at one edge. “This way.”
Caspian’s hand tightened once, then eased before itbecame a grip.
Stand with me.
He did.
We stepped into the corridor together.
Kieran was already there.
He leaned against the opposite wall with one shoulder angled away from the stone. His face had color in all the places it should not and none where it should. Hale stood beside him, close enough to catch him and far enough to let him pretend he did not need catching.
Kieran saw my face and grinned.
“You look rested.”
The green-gold line between us pulled hard enough that I nearly crossed the corridor before Caspian’s thumb moved once against mine. A reminder, not a restraint.
“You’re still bleeding,” I said.
Kieran looked down at the dark patches spreading under his collar.
“Less than it wants to.”
“Kieran.”
His smile tried to hold and failed.
No joke followed.
Hale’s gaze moved over me once, reading exhaustion, shock, the way I was still standing because stopping was impossible, but only barely.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“I’ve been walking all night.”
