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"Because he's Rhyven." Fair. Nyra returns to her notes. "He softens around you."

I laugh. Actually laugh. "Nyra, he threatened to make me repeat an entire combat course last week."

"Then brought you lunch."

Silence. I stare. "That wasn't him." Nyra looks up. Nothing else. Just looks. My confidence disappears. "...Was it?" She smiles. Oh, gods. "No." I point at her. "No."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You are ruining things."

"What things?"

"My understanding of reality."

"That seems dramatic."

"Rhyven doesn't—" I stop. Doesn't what? Cares? Obviously he cares. I know that. We're friends. Maybe. Whatever we are. But coffee? Food? Blankets? Training before my evaluation? Standing outside my room because he didn't want to wait alone? Catching me. Every time. Nyra watches my face. Her teasing disappears.

"I'm not telling you to do anything about it."

I look at her. "Good."

"I'm serious." She closes the notebook. "I don't know what you two are doing."

"Neither do I." The answer comes too quickly. Nyra's mouth twitches. I groan. "Don't."

"I didn't."

"You almost did."

She becomes serious again. "I'm telling you because you're terrible at noticing when someone cares for you quietly." That lands somewhere I wasn't prepared for.

I look away. "That's very specific."

"Because it's true." My father. Caelen. Rhyven. Different men. Different languages. All terrible at saying things. Maybe I'm not much better at hearing them when they aren't words. Nyra nudges my foot.

"Also..."

"No."

"You almost kissed Rhyven Corvell."

"Go to hell." She bursts out laughing. I throw the pillow again.

Later, I walk back with her. Obviously. No one travels alone anymore. At the residence intersection, we stop beneath the new magical sensor installed that afternoon. A crystal burns steadily above us. Bright. Full. Watching. Tomorrow is Tuesday. If the pattern holds, someone disappears. But tomorrow is different. We have depletion monitors. Siren detection. Immediate evidence isolation. Chief response teams. Dragons. Wardkeepers. Nyra's maps. Cassian's gap. My Blood Echo. For the first time, when the bells ring we won't only search. We'll measure. We'll record. We'll follow whatever remains.

Nyra looks toward the glowing crystal. "Think it'll work?"

"I don't know."

"Good answer."

"I learned from you." She smiles. Then we separate at our residence doors.

Inside my room, I look toward the clock. Tuesday is less than two hours away. Thirty-two days remain until the historical attack. Maybe. Or thirty. Or ten. Or one. Forty-three was never a promise. Just the amount of time the last people had before everything changed. And this time the Hollowborn are already moving faster.

Chapter Forty