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For the first time, something fierce flashes across her expression. “He was sixteen. I was his big sister. What was I supposed to do?”

“Why were they looking at him? And how did you think you could protect him?” I demand, because all I can picture now is Rowan shaking in my arms after another nightmare. Somebody watched him his entire fucking life from the shadows?

Cassian’s hand settles against the back of Sola’s chair. “By marrying me.”

Lucan drags a hand down his face, a disbelieving laugh breaking out of him. “You married into the fucking Marrows for him?”

“Not just for him.” Cassian glances toward Sola. “But he was part of it.”

Sola exhales and pushes herself back to her feet. “Düren isn’t Caervast. You grow up learning very quickly what kind of people survive there, and our parents would never have accepted me willingly walking into this world.”

Dad inclines his head. “So you vanished instead.”

She runs a hand through her golden hair, straightening the black jacket that fits her like a glove. “Every year, it got worse. Rowan was already breaking under it. At the time, I thought all of it was my fault.” Her mouth tightens. “The violence. The break-ins. Strange men showing up outside our apartment. Watching Mama and Papa fall apart every time somebody forced a door or tore the place apart looking for something.” She looks away for a moment. “I’d spent years stealing things, getting into trouble, pushing my luck. I convinced myself somebody had finally come to collect the bill.”

Her gaze flicks toward Cassian. “Then an opportunity appeared. A contract. A way out. A chance to rewrite my life and remove the danger from my family’s doorstep. So I took it. I thought if I disappeared, they’d stop looking at him.” A humorless laugh escapes her. “Turns out, I was solving the wrong problem.”

Lucan blows out a slow breath. “So let me get this straight. The scholarship. That was you?”

Sola turns her gaze toward Mom, but it’s Cassian who drawls, “Since the Virel-Orlov conflict, the scholarship shouldn’t have existed anymore. My wife was determined to get her brother to Sero. So I contacted Halvern, from one older brother to another, and the Marrow family paid to reopen it.”

Dad’s gaze slides toward the edge of the room. “You knew?”

Halvern steps forward from where he was lingering near the windows. “I did.”

Dad’s expression darkens. “And you said nothing.”

“I respected the oath I gave.”

“The oath.” Dad gives a dry chuckle. “While I had my son investigate the scholarship student. You caused us a lot of work, Professor.”

“Rowan deserves it,” Sola says. “For as long as my brother could talk, he wanted the Noctis. And I wanted to give him the world.” Something soft flickers across her expression, and fuck it if I feel something that’s suspiciously close to sympathy.

“Then why not tell him it was you?” Dad asks.

“He would’ve stayed behind for everyone else,” I cut in.

He told me so himself.

That’s the problem with Rowan. He never puts himself first.

Dad’s gaze flicks toward me, and judging by the look on his face, I’m probably proving Sola’s point for her.

If Sola realizes I know more than I probably should, she doesn’t show it. “Normally, as a Düren citizen, Rowan is obligated to serve rotations at the Ward,” she explains. “If I told him before he left, he would’ve found some reason to stay. Light, I wanted to tell him. I had everything planned. I was looking forward to breaking the news that his annoying big sister had finally managed to change his life. But the original plan changed the moment he and Damaris arrived.”

“Why?” Dad asks.

“Because of the Legacy meeting surrounding the mafia ban. Cassian insisted we respect the additional security. Then everybody was watching everybody. The ports. Even the academy.”

“And the scholarship,” Lucan adds.

“And the scholarship.” Sola nods. “People started asking questions. Then Rowan arrived, and people paid far more attention to him than they should have.” Her gaze flicks briefly toward me. “At that point, bringing him openly into the Marrow household would’ve attached him to us.”

“So you left him in the dorms.”

“I put him somewhere visible,” she corrects. “Somewhere nobody could make him disappear without witnesses.”

“He missed you, you know,” I can’t help saying, because really, all this social posturing is getting on my nerves. He’s out there somewhere, and we’re sitting here talking while nobody knows whether he’s safe.