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Cassian looks up from the sofa. "I learned that Varethian wheat was once considered politically symbolic."

I stare. "Why."

"No idea."

Nyra leans her forehead against the table. "I hate history."

"You love history."

"I hate this history." Fair.

The investigation notebook remains unchanged.

HEART OF VARETHIA — UNKNOWN

Exactly where we left it. Maybe that's where it belongs for now.

That night, I'm assigned outer wall patrol. Dax joins me. Apparently my reward for drawing with him is spending two hours walking in the cold. Wonderful.

We start at the southern watchpoint. Quiet. The village glows below. Music from The Place drifts faintly across the distance. No screams. No smoke. No alarms. Just people. Dax walks beside me. Hands in his coat pockets. "You look disappointed."

I glance toward him. "About?"

"Nothing happening."

"I'm absolutely not disappointed."

"Good."

"You?"

"No." A pause. "Suspicious."

"Same."

We continue along the wall. Below us, two villagers cross the square alone. No escort. No buddy. I watch them. Dax notices. "Wolves do this."

"What."

"Nothing happens long enough, everyone decides nothing can."

I look toward him. "Vampires do it too."

"Idiots."

"Apparently universal."

A ward crystal burns steadily beside us. Full output. I check the meter. Normal. Of course. Everything is normal. That's becoming unsettling.

"You know what changed?" Dax asks.

I look over. "About what."

"You."

Wonderful. "Did I become prettier?"

"Debatable."