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“Sola.” He tastes her name in his mouth, and I can practically hear his unspoken questions.

But I have some myself as well.

Why did you hunt me down when I went to the Black Chapel? Why did you have to be the one who could control my attacks when even I don't know how to control this failing heart?

I swallow, but the words won't come out.

I can't tell him about the photograph. About Halvern. About Sola standing beside people she never should have known, looking like she'd belonged there for years.

Even though I want to.

But the second I do, I'm admitting I trust him. And I still don't know where the Virels fit into any of this. Whether they're helping me find Sola or making sure I never do.

Ciaran looks at me for a long moment. “Okay.”

I blink. “Okay?”

Reaching into the hoverbike storage compartment, he pulls out a bottle before leaning back against the railing. “Mouse, I can see that mind of yours spinning. What makes you think she's here?”

The photograph. Tell him about the photograph.

He takes a swig before holding the bottle out toward me.

I stare at it before taking it reluctantly and swallowing a small mouthful. The burn hits, twisting my face before I can stop it. “Because I did some research.”

Amusement flickers through Ciaran's eyes as he watches me before reaching over and taking the bottle from my hand, lifting it toward his mouth. “Mm... and what did you find?”

I stare out over the city. “I just...”

“You don't want to tell me.”

He leans back against the railing, one boot hooked over the other while the city lights slide across the sharp line of his jaw and the dark of his eyes.

I still haven't gotten used to looking him right in the eye. Maybe I never will.

“You're staring again,” he drawls.

It's overwhelming when he looks at me like that for too long. Like there's nowhere left to hide. Maybe that's what unsettles me most. The fact that some stupid part of me wants to hold onto this a little longer.

I look away, which only seems to increase his amusement.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “So you don't want to tell me why you think she's here, but you're looking for proof that she is.”

“I think someone wants me to believe she is." I stare out over the lower districts instead of at him, neon bleeding across the wet streets far below the sky-bridge.

“That's not the same thing.”

“I know.”

He stays quiet beside me, one arm draped over his bent knee, leather creaking whenever he shifts. Somehow, he still looks completely at ease after turning my entire life upside down. “What was she like?”

The question catches me off guard, and my throat tightens. “Loud.”

“Not like you, then.” He chuckles when I kick his boot.

He's right, though. “I didn't need to be. She used to talk enough for both of us. She never got scared first. I did. But she always looked out for me.”

I shouldn't be saying this. I still don't know what Ciaran's connection to any of it is, but I'd found photographs that placed Sola beside people she never should've known.