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"He's rude."

"Yes."

"Impatient."

"Yes."

"Bossy."

"Extremely."

"See?"

Nyra tilts her head. "Then he brings you coffee."

I stop. "What."

"Coffee."

"That means nothing."

"Food. Blankets."

My stomach drops. I look at her. "What?"

Nyra's expression changes. Ah. She knows something I don't.

"What blanket?"

"Nothing."

"Nyra." She looks suddenly interested in her notes. "Nyra."

"I assumed you knew."

"Knew what."

She sighs. "Archive weekend." My mind moves backward. Maps. Reports. No sleep. Waking with a blanket over my shoulders. I had assumed— I don't know what I assumed. Someone. Anyone.

"That was Rhyven?"

Nyra looks at me. "He noticed you fell asleep."

Oh. "He brought it?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"While you were asleep."

Obviously.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Nyra's mouth twists. "Because he looked at Cassian like he'd personally throw him from the Archive if he mentioned it."

I stare. Then— "Why?"