Page 153 of Dishonored

She was so damn tired.

This work was exhausting.

They exhausted her.

Aria waved a hand at the mess. “Someone clean this—I have far better things to do.”

She was back in the kitchen, and staring out the large windows when Nico finally came after her. He said nothing as he slid in beside her, and watched the birds pecking at the seeds she had left out for them the day before.

“You usually have more patience than that for Simone,” he noted.

Aria shrugged. “He had to go.”

“Fair enough, but in a way that ruined the rug I know you went to the Maldives to buy?”

She made a noise under her breath. “So, I’m a little touchy.”

“Is this still about him?”

Caesar, Nico meant.

“It’s always about him now,” she admitted.

Even when his name wasn’t on her lips …

Even when he wasn’t there …

Even when she was alone …

It was still about him, and how empty she was now.

“I waited—it’s been a week since he buried his father,” she said. “He’s made no effort to contact me, Nico. I think … everything I did was just too much.”

Maybe she’d lost her chance.

Another sacrifice to add to the growing pile.

“Or maybe it’s time for you to make another move,” her friend suggested.

“I don’t—”

“Anything can be fixed, Aria. You just have to hit restart.”

She did like that idea.

“Restart it is, then.”

Aria never once considered that she would return to Lucifer’s Den, and yet, here she was. Right back at the beginning again—trying to find her magical do-over. The restart button that would fix all of her wrongs … or some of them, anyway.

His eyes were on her the moment she stepped through the doors that led into what the patrons affectionally dubbed Hell. The private area for anything and everything. The very place where she had approached Caesar the first time.

She didn’t wear gold this time around.

She wore red.

Her curls were up instead of down.

Her makeup was simple.