Page 78 of Flames and Blood

“Don’t.”

“I’ve heard six versions of that story already. In two of them you were nine feet tall. Kent has a vivid imagination.” She falls into step beside me. “My favorite is the one where you went through a warded line to get in, and then went back through it a second time to get out. Twice in one night. Through a wall that turns off engines.”

“That one’s true.”

“I know it’s true. That’s what makes it my favorite.” She straightens her cuff. “Do you remember what I asked you in that lot in Idaho?”

“You asked me if I believed in Fate.”

“And you said no. You looked at me as though I’d offered to read your palm.” She stops walking. “One question. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ask it.”

“When that door opened, and you saw her…did you know her?”

I don’t answer.

She smiles, wide and pleased. She pats my arm on her way past.

“Delightful,” she says. “Absolutely delightful. Have a safe drive.”

“I didn’t answer.”

“And that told me everything I needed to know.” She’s already walking. “Crowe. One more thing, and this one is free.”

“Go on.”

“When you get where you’re going, they will put her in a room full of her own people and start deciding things about her.” She looks back over her shoulder. “You will want to be in that room.”

“My part finishes at the gate.”

“Yes,” she says. “That’s rather what I’m getting at.”

She goes. I stay where I am and watch her cross the hall to Torbjorn, who is sitting in a chair that is too small for him and has not moved in an hour. I’ve seen men try to get a bear clan leader out of a chair. I’ve never seen one manage it.

“Come outside,” she says. “It’s stopped snowing.”

“Hmm.”

“Was that a yes?”

“It was a hmm.”

“Then I’ll take it as a yes.”

Then she just stands there. She doesn’t ask again, and she doesn’t leave. Torbjorn holds out for about ten seconds. Then he gets up and follows her out. She got him out of that chair without touching him and without raising her voice. She’s done the same thing to me twice tonight.

Bastien finds me later, in a side room with one lamp and a window looking at nothing.

“I looked for you at the hall,” he says. “You weren’t in it.”

“I’ve had enough of the hall.”

“So had I.” He sits down without asking. “I’ll say this once, and then I’ll stop, because I know what you’re like about it. You found her when nobody else could. Serenity has her life back because you did the work. I owe you something I can’t pay, and I’d like it said out loud before you drive off.”

“It was the job.”

“It stopped being the job somewhere around the quarry, and we both know it.” He shrugs. “That’s all. I’m not going to make you sit through more of it.”