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And if Sola truly is somewhere on Sero, then there must be a reason she hasn't come near me herself.

That's the part I can't stop thinking about.

“Mouse.”

I realize too late that I've gone quiet again.

“You don't have to tell me everything tonight.” Ciaran's hand shifts beside mine on the railing, close enough that our fingers almost touch.

My throat tightens. Maybe because I've spent so long feeling hunted that I still don't know what to do with someone standing beside me instead of closing in.

Ciaran glances toward me, then knocks his knee against mine. “This is why I brought you here. It's the best view on the ports. On Sero, we have both lower and upper ports. Impressive, right?” He adds, when he catches me gawking, “Mom used to bring me here, before she lost her sight.”

My fingers curl around the railing as Ciaran keeps his eyes on the city below.

“She used to sit here for hours with the Noctis.” One hand lifts toward the horizon where ships move through streams of light. “Writing music. Watching the ports. Keeping track of business. She would look at traffic patterns and tell my father which companies were moving too much freight or who was getting nervous.” A faint smile touches his mouth before fading. “Dad says she never really stopped after the attack. Even now, she still asks for the old folios sometimes, like she's looking for something she misplaced years ago."

I stare at him. “Your mother did that?”

A low laugh leaves him as he pushes one boot against the railing support. “Mouse, my mother scares people.”

I shake my head, looking back out over the city.

“The attack.” Ciaran drags his thumb slowly over the bottle in his hand. “For some reason, I've been thinking about it lately. Dad got me out, but Mom stayed behind.”

The city blurs beneath me.

“He still blames himself.” He rolls the bottle between his hands before looking back toward the lights below. "I think I do too.”

I turn the helmet over in my hands. I've never thought much about other people's problems. Most of my life has been surviving, staying quiet, keeping my head down long enough to make it to the next day.

Ciaran nudges his shoulder against mine. “Tell me something, mouse.”

I glance at him.

“Say Caervast never happened.” His hand lifts toward the city. “Where do you end up?"

I stare out over the lower districts while dawn bleeds gold across the glass towers below us. “I don't know.”

Ciaran flicks the empty bottle out into the disposal chute beside the platform. We're not flying anywhere for a while yet, and I suspect that was the plan all along. “Bullshit. Everyone wants something.”

I watch the city a moment longer. “Maybe somewhere quiet.”

He turns toward me, grinning. “Quiet? Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe I'd have a music studio or something.” I shift one shoulder. "Somewhere people will leave me alone long enough to work.”

“That's the saddest dream I've ever heard.” He shakes his head. “I'm adding things.”

“You don't get to add things to my imaginary future.”

“Too late.” He leans against the railing again. “I'm already furnishing it.”

I should probably be looking at the view too. Instead, I keep looking at him. The early light softens the edges of him, turning something dangerous into something far harder to leave behind.

I still haven't figured out how someone can look dangerous and unfairly beautiful at the same time.

The thought of leaving him someday lands somewhere inside me.