The library was full of worry and panic and Hadalce’s shouted orders and Roel’s cries of pain. Roel’s sobbing intensified as Haldace and several of the estate personnel lifted her out of her chair and onto a woven mat of some kind. The poor girl kept crying for her sister and, as the pain became more intense and her cries more incoherent, her mother. The girls never talked about her, and hearing it now made me feel like I was witnessing something I shouldn’t. I wearily retrieved my pulser.

“Let me help,” I said to Hadalce.

“You’ve done enough! Get out!”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened them.

“Roel,” I said, ignoring Hadalce’s death glare. “Close your eyes for me, okay? I’m going to make it better.”

She looked up at me with hope, then shakily nodded and screwed her eyes shut. I pulsed her.

“What have you done?!” Hadalce screamed.

“She’s asleep,” I said, utterly exhausted. “Or close enough. You have three hours, give or take.”

Abby’s voice interrupted me. “Lilith. You are jeopardizing your cover and the mission. Hide the pulser and don’t say anything else.”

“Fine,” I subvocalized, too tired to fight this. “What do I do with the rag?”

“I’ll pick it up when I get there.”

“Where’s Kuril?” I shouted to the room.

“Here,” a man called, but his voice was too full of grief for the news to be good. I trudged over.

Kuril’s body was lying on the ground. They’d pulled her out of the pile of books and the downed ship, but there was a bad-looking bruise on her head, and she was staring blankly at the ceiling. Weeping members of the staff surrounded her.

She was breathing. It was just a pulse fugue. Nothing they’d seen before, but nothing to worry about, either. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“She’s alive,” I said. “I can fix her. Move.”

“Lilith,” Abby said warningly.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” I subvocalized. “Cover story has to adapt. I get points for waking her up this way. Permission to perform feedback therapy?”

Abby barely even paused. “Granted. This is your cover, you have the right to take initiative. I just wanted to be sure.”

I didn’t respond, kneeling down to pick up Kuril’s hand. After a moment I found her pulse, nice and regular. A bit high for a resting heart rate, I thought. Maybe with the constant stress of managing the household she didn’t have time to stay in shape. I’d barely had time for morning PT myself.

Stay focused, Lilith. The heartbeat is the foundation of the body. It’s the clock in your hindbrain that ticks no matter what, the slow rippling of neural activity in the frequency of life. In etherspace, Kuril’s soul was vibrating at the same frequency, connected along the pulse of that heartbeat. It’s not a simple connection—in fact, it’s one of the most complicated etheric structures in known paraphysics—but this was the pillar that kept her body and soul together.

Lirian had essentially jammed that pillar with the pulser, choked it with so much noise that the signal couldn’t get through. Body and soul weren’t speaking to each other anymore. Kuril was technically still conscious in etherspace, but with none of that information filtering back to her brain, it’d get overwritten by the next thing that happened in realspace. Same reason you forget your dreams. But eventually the communication patterns of the brain and soul would re-establish themselves.

Feedback therapy was a way to make that happen faster. And it started with the heartbeat. I took the pulse, internalized it, and started rubbing circles with my other thumb on the palm of her hand. Nice and slow. Give her something to latch on to.

“Hey, Pelain, I need your help,” I said, addressing an older woman who usually attended Kuril. “I need you to sing a song that Kuril’s familiar with. Something personal. It needs to be exactly this fast.”

I tapped my foot to the beat of Kuril’s heart. Pelain thought about it.

“There was a song her mother used to sing to her.”

“Perfect,” I said, bracing myself.

The human brain is highly attuned to rhythm. The human brain is also highly attuned to language. That’s the reason (among a bunch of others, I guess) you get singing in every human culture. So godslayers will always hear the music of the cultures they deploy to, in something that sounds like their own language, but with the rhythm of the original language. It’s a literal headache. But it’d wake Kuril up faster, so I just had to suck it up.

“There is a place where,” Pelain sang, “the water is cool.”

I clenched my jaw as my brain insisted a five-syllable phrase actually took eleven syllables. I didn’t let it interfere with the rhythm of my thumb on Kuril’s palm.

“Where the sun is pleasant,” nine syllables, “and sorrow is no more.”

Kuril shifted, which probably indicated reconnection was underway in the motor regions of her brain.

“In this place, all that you need will be at hand.

“And I will wait for you there.”

Darwin, I hated it. “Lovely song,” I said. “Is their mother…?”

Pelain gave me a look and kept singing, which I realized too late was mutually exclusive with answering my question. I nodded at her to keep going.

Kuril made a soft noise.

“It’s working,” I said. “Keep going. Kuril, can you hear me?”

Kuril made another noise.

“You’re doing great,” I said. “Listen to Pelain. Can you move?”

Her hand gripped mine. I squeezed back.

“That’s good. Are you hurt?”

“Hurt?” she croaked.

“Are you injured anywhere?” I said. “Looks like Lirian dropped a bookshelf on you.”

“I don’t remember,” said Kuril, pulling her hand out of mine. For a second I worried that she blamed me for this. Then she pulled herself up on her elbows and I realized I was getting jumpy for nothing. Then I remembered Lirian’s words and realized she still might blame me for everything. All the advice I’d heard for dealing with imposter syndrome didn’t work as well when I was literally an imposter.

“I feel like I’m still dreaming,” said Kuril.

“We need you to wake up,” I said. “Please. There’s been an attack. Roel’s hurt.”

Her eyes snapped to me as I said that. With obvious effort, she tried to pull herself to her feet. I helped her stand up, maneuvering my shoulders under her arm.

“She’s over here,” I said. “She’s asleep. Lirian stabbed her in the leg.”

“No!” Kuril shouted. She shoved me off and stumbled over to the group surrounding Roel’s prone form.

“Commander, we really need to get her some antibiotics,” I subvocalized. “Lirian made a point of contaminating the blade. It might also be poisoned. Fuck. Can we scan for that?”

“Threat of death, artificial,” said Abby. “You can filter by intent.”

“Got it.” I started the scan.

“You don’t have the social capital to apply strange medicines to Roel’s injury. Fix that first. I’ll bring a medkit.”

“...Got it,” I said.

Okay. I could do this.

I approached the patient, already steeling myself for Hadalce’s displeasure. That was the first problem. Second problem was what Lirian had said about getting blamed for this. Third problem was that Kuril was probably about to kick me out of her house. She’d been too close to losing Roel, and it was my fault, so the rational thing to do was call it square on the life debt and wish us the best of luck on the road.

“Hey, Kuril,” I started. I’d noticed an open window and come back? I’d fought her to a standstill? Fuck, I didn’t know what to say.

Hadalce turned bright red. “Lady Kuril, this trash—”

She trailed off as Kuril threw her arms around me and squeezed me so hard I felt like a rib was going to pop out. My mind went completely blank. Then I hugged her back. I abandoned my half-assed cover story.

“I couldn’t stop Lirian,” I whispered, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“She’s alive,” said Kuril. “For now.”

The scan for poison had returned negative. I sighed and gave Kuril a squeeze. “I promise she’ll be okay.”

Kuril didn’t respond, reciprocating the squeeze.

“We can find Lirian,” I said. “I know a guy in the city. We’ll stop this. I promise you.”

“No!” Kuril said, releasing me, looking up with fierce eyes. “You’re staying right here with Roel. Your duty is to the House, both of you. I’m going straight to the Visionary. The Oathkeepers will have her by sunrise. Keep her safe, Ajarel.”

“Lady Kuril,” Haldace protested. “Ajarel hurt Roel!”

I had to shut that down fast. “Then who unlocked the library doors?” I shouted. “I was all the way over here!”

“Not that! You grabbed the knife in her leg!”

That one caught me off balance. I checked Kuril’s reaction, which was mostly confusion. I knew I had to say something.

“It needed to happen,” I tried. “Kuril, please trust me.”

From the expression on her face, that wasn’t the right thing to say.

“I am exhausted and at my wit’s end,” said Kuril. “Ajarel, explain.”

“I—”

“She wrapped a rag around it!” said Haldace. “It’s blood magic, Lady Kuril! Get her out of this house!”

Oh shit, that was a lot of stares. Really suspicious stares. My stomach sank as Kuril’s face grew darker. My shoulders hunched defensively of their own accord.

“Lady Ajarel,” she said dangerously. “Come with me.”

Her grip on my hand didn’t leave me much of a choice. We exited the library and took a turn out onto the courtyard balcony. The ghostlights out here were in shades of gray and blue, accentuating the moonlight rather than fighting it. Kuril released me.

“I need you to listen like you have never listened before. Do you understand?”

I nodded, wary.

“This House is crumbling,” said Kuril. “Vitareas has all but forgotten us. Our mother died in battle against the Phrecians. I cannot handle our affairs alone. I am trying, but I cannot shout into Horcutio’s breath. The Henadim abandoned three generations of friendship for rank opportunism and the Voranetti’s rapacity has never been more audacious. I know you have your secrets—shut up and listen, Ajarel! Of course I know! You’re not as subtle as you think! I am telling you I do not care. I do not care what you left behind you in Salaphi. I do not care about the true nature of your relationship with Thala. But I cannot have even the rumor of blood magic in my House.”

So that was it. The rejection felt like a knife in my sternum. I avoided her eyes, my gaze settling on her feet.

“I understand. I can leave.”

She hit me. Right in the face, an unexpected, stinging impact that threw me off balance. I threw my hands up defensively, looking at her in shock.

“Coward!” she shouted. “You know I can’t handle this alone! Roel needs a sister!”

“I—what? I thought, uh.” I must have looked very silly, frozen in a half-assed guard stance, but my body wasn’t entirely sure how it was supposed to move right now.

The confusion on my face must have been contagious, because it looked like Kuril got thrown for a loop too. We stared at each other wordlessly while my arms slowly sank out of high guard. But underneath the confusion was a desperate bloom of hope.

“I, uh, thought you were throwing me out,” I said. “Is that not what’s happening?”

“You cannot possibly be this dense,” she said. “No, you idiot! I want to adopt you!”

“Oh.”

“But I can’t do that if you’re causing blood magic scandals.”

“Oh.”

“So just give me the rag and we’ll burn it. If you’re addicted already, I’ll pay for a priest of Gamal. They’re discreet. We’ll tell Hadalce you read it in a book and didn’t realize what you were doing. And you will start working as my secretary. I know there’s nothing for you back home. Stay here. Help me hold things together. Please, Ajarel.”

I slumped against the railing. I was feeling a lot of very intense things, but damned if I could tell you what they were. “This is a lot,” I said.

“Please.” Kuril looked more desperate than I’d ever seen her. “That wasn’t a clean wound. I’ve seen them before. Roel will need you more than before.”

I wanted so much to say yes. I wanted it so much it hurt, right in the rejection from earlier. But I couldn’t give her that rag.

“I don’t know any blood magic,” I said instead of answering her. “The guy I mentioned? It’s for him. If I get it to him, he can track down Lirian for us. We won’t be safe until then. Please let me get it to him.”

“The Oathkeepers will handle it,” said Kuril. “Give me the rag.”

“Lilith, do not give her the rag,” said the commander.

“I need to do this,” I pleaded with her. “I need to beat Lirian. I’ve failed twice.”

“Is Lirian more important than Roel?”

“This is for Roel,” I said. “She had a knife to her throat, Kuril! I can’t do that again!”

“Let the Oathkeepers handle it!” shouted Kuril. “Are you too far gone already?”

“I don’t know any fucking blood magic!” I yelled.

“But you know someone who does,” Kruil said softly. “Maybe that’s all it takes.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Call that priest, then. Preferably right now.”

The balcony was about twenty five feet off the ground, so if I stuck the landing just right—Kuril grabbed my hand, accidentally preventing my glorious plan to save the day.

“We can all get through this together,” she said.

I took a deep breath, holding her hand. I didn’t have a way out of this after all. But if you’re going to fall, fall forward.

“Commander, you said I could use my initiative,” I subvocalized. “I’m securing the mission.”

I retrieved the rag from my wrap and handed it to Kuril. She gave me a weary smile and hugged me. There was a ghostlight on the railing not far from us. Kuril unlatched the top and dropped the rag in. It flared bloody red, decaying into ash with supernatural speed. Then both fire and rag were gone, leaving only glittering ash in the lantern basin.

“Huh,” I said after a moment.

“What is it?”

“I guess Roel’s my aunt now.”