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"I'm fine." He studies me another second. Then nods. Not because he's fully satisfied. Because he believes me. That matters too. He starts walking. Stops. Looks back.

"Proud of you." My smile disappears. Caelen looks immediately uncomfortable. Good. He deserves it.

"Was that affection?"

"Don't."

"Should I document this?"

"I'll deny it."

"Nyra!" He leaves before I can shout again. Coward.

I stand in the corridor smiling like an idiot. Then remember the roll in my hand. Right.

Operations is three doors away. Light beneath it. I sigh. This is not a pattern. It is bread. I open the door.

Rhyven looks up. His eyes move immediately to my ribs. Of course. "Vayne cleared me." I say before he can speak. His mouth closes. Victory. Then his gaze drops. To the roll. Then me.

"What."

I put it beside his reports. "Food."

"I know what food is."

I smile. "Good. We continue to make progress."

He looks at the roll. Then at me. "I ate."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Actual food?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

His eyebrows rise. "How."

I consider. "Fair." I turn toward the door.

"Eirea." I look back. He holds up the roll. "Thank you." Something warm moves through my chest. Small. Annoying.

I shrug. "You'll be useless if you starve."

"Naturally."

"National security."

"Obviously." I leave before he can see me smile.

Eleven fifty-eight. I am in bed. Nyra is reading. Neither of us pretends not to know the time. Eleven fifty-nine. Nothing. Midnight. One bell. Normal. Day Twelve. Nyra closes her book. I look toward the ceiling. No alarm. No message. No footsteps. No names. Nothing. History said eleven. History was wrong. At least this time.

I think about Dax. About Caelen. My left hand. The dragon yesterday. Blood Echo sitting beneath my skin without frightening me. Months ago, I thought strength meant being impossible to overpower. Being faster. Sharper. More dangerous. Never losing. Never yielding. Never giving anyone enough space to hurt me. I don't think that anymore. Sometimes strength is losing your weapon and continuing. Sometimes it's knowing the person across from you is better and stepping onto the mat anyway. Sometimes it's feeling power rise inside you and refusing to fear it. Not because you suppress it. Because you trust yourself with it. And sometimes it's knowing you could unleash everything and choosing not to.

Outside, Varethia sleeps. Twelve days. No Hollowborn. No disappearances. No reports from Elarion. For the first time since we found those old records I'm glad history was wrong.