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"Can't sleep?" I ask.

"No." At least he's stopped lying about that.

"Me neither."

His eyes move briefly toward my room. "Blood Echo?"

"Partly."

"Theryn."

"Yes."

He nods. No need to explain. We stand in the corridor like idiots. Two doors. Twelve feet apart. Nyra asleep behind mine. Caelen behind his. This is a terrible environment for whatever is happening between us. Probably good. Unfortunately.

"I'm making tea." I say.

Rhyven looks toward the common room. "At one in the morning."

"Tea works after midnight."

"I don't think that's how tea works."

"You don't know everything."

"I know enough."

"Do you want some?"

A pause. "Yes." Oh.

The common room is dark except for one low lantern.

I light the stove. Rhyven sits at the table. No reports.

No maps. No uniform coat. Just him. That feels strangely intimate. More than it should. I make two cups. Set one in front of him. He takes a drink. Immediately makes a face. I narrow my eyes. "What."

"Nothing."

"You hate it."

"No."

"Rhyven."

"It's terrible."

I stare. "You could've lied."

"You've complained when I lie."

"About important things."

"This feels important." I laugh. Quietly. I can't help it. His mouth curves. Not enough for dimples. Close.

For a few minutes we drink terrible tea. No Hollowborn. No response protocols. No almost-kiss.

Then I ask: "Did you feel anything from Vyrael when Theryn disappeared?"