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“Volga?”

I realize my mistake “A friend of mine,” I say instinctively

She snorts “You have friends besides me? The nerve” She sa That’s an Obsidian name, isn’t it?” She looks apprehensive at the idea

“La,” I say, and as I say it, I feel like I’ Not tethered to any of the people around irl, and for what? Money? My life? I settle back against a tree to close ets the name and lets the subject die

“How’s the Tele with the peace talks?” I say to distract her She’s caught off guard I’ve never asked about them before

“They think Caraval is playing both sides And that Dancer can’t control the Vox like he thinks he can”

“Interesting”

“So bad I’m not sure what, but it was on Earth They’ve been sealed up in the Sovereign’s wing for days”

“Hm” I let the subject die, lest she become suspicious

Despite everything, it feels good to lie down and ease the ache betweenwell in ht night pacing back and forth in front of the s that Gold bitch kill Trigg again and again ontheir little dance acrosswith Holiday as Trigg dies and dies and dies, for him For their messiah

What would Trigg think of how this has all turned out?

Seven years ago, Luna was a war zone choking on dust and debris, her sky groaning with bo, children born who’ve never seen those boions that once prowled the cityscape The sky is war shallowly And I feel, despite h to drift to sleep

“I’ve been thinking about what you told irl says suddenly I look over at her from under my shades She’s on her back, her eyes closed, shirtsleeves rolled up so the autuht can warm her dark forearms

“Oh dear Whatever did I prattle on about now?” I ask

“About seeing myself before others see me”