LOGINTravis' POVHer tea was on the table when she came down. She sat, picked it up, drank. She didn't ask who made it anymore."You put lemon in this," she said."I saw the half on the counter last night."She looked at me over the cup. I looked back. Neither of us said anything about what it meant that I'd noticed a squeezed lemon at midnight and used it in the morning."Kent called," she said. "The council consolidated the hearings. The shift demand and the blood test, same night. Nine days.""Who pushed for it?""Anonymous motion through the procedural office. Kent's looking into it.""Anonymous." I set my coffee down. "Someone on the council wants you under pressure and doesn't want their name on it.""That's what Kent said.""That's what the fires said too. Somebody moves in the dark and lets other people take the heat." I'd been thinking about this since James showed me the clasp. "The depot fires. The councilman shouting about my fitness before the smoke cleared. Now an anonymous m
Sussy's POV "What if I don't know how to fight this one?""Then you learn. And I sit next to you while you learn, and I bring soup with too much ginger, and I don't ask about the bruise until you're ready to tell me."She turned her hand over under mine and held on. We sat like that for a while, two women at a kitchen table, one of them carrying more than the other knew, and the quiet was the kind of quiet that doesn't need filling because it's already full.After a while she said, "Travis made me tea last night. While I was sleeping. He came into my room and left it on the nightstand.""That's sweet.""It's not sweet. It's strange. He made it exactly right. No sugar, a little honey. I've never told him how I take it.""Maybe he watched you make it.""That's what I told myself." She looked at the cup on the counter, the one she'd been holding when I walked in. "But he also brought the wool blanket from the hall closet. The one my mother bought. Nobody uses that blanket. It's on the t
Sussy's POV "What if I don't know how to fight this one?""Then you learn. And I sit next to you while you learn, and I bring soup with too much ginger, and I don't ask about the bruise until you're ready to tell me."She turned her hand over under mine and held on. We sat like that for a while, two women at a kitchen table, one of them carrying more than the other knew, and the quiet was the kind of quiet that doesn't need filling because it's already full.After a while she said, "Travis made me tea last night. While I was sleeping. He came into my room and left it on the nightstand.""That's sweet.""It's not sweet. It's strange. He made it exactly right. No sugar, a little honey. I've never told him how I take it.""Maybe he watched you make it.""That's what I told myself." She looked at the cup on the counter, the one she'd been holding when I walked in. "But he also brought the wool blanket from the hall closet. The one my mother bought. Nobody uses that blanket. It's on the t
Sussy's POVI brought soup because soup is what you bring when your best friend won't answer her phone for two days and you're done pretending that's normal.The housekeeper let me in. I walked through the hall with the pot in both hands and found Diana in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a cup of tea she wasn't drinking, looking out the window at nothing."You're alive," I said. "Good. I was about to file a missing persons report."She turned. And the first thing I saw was the bruise.It ran from her cheekbone to the corner of her eye, purple fading to yellow at the edges, the kind of bruise that's a few days old and has been covered with something that didn't work. Her lip had a split in it, healing but still visible, a thin dark line across the lower lip that she'd been worrying with her teeth.I set the pot down on the counter. I didn't say anything about it. Not yet. Diana had a way of shutting doors when you walked toward them too fast, and if I said what happened to yo
Brielle's POVI thought about what I'd seen in that clinic corridor. Diana's face after Ian hit her. The steadiness of it. The way she'd looked at me over Ian's shoulder while he held me, and her eyes hadn't been broken or frightened or humiliated. They'd been clear. Clear and focused and seeing me in a way nobody had seen me since I was a child and my father put his hand under my chin and said, say you understand me.Diana had looked at me the way my father looked at people. Like she was reading the room from the inside out. Like something behind her eyes had woken up and was taking inventory.I didn't say any of that to Ian. Saying it to Ian would mean Ian going to my father, and my father would know the observation came from me, and my father didn't share his thoughts with people who shared his thoughts with others. I'd learned that lesson at twelve, the night I'd repeated something he said at dinner to a friend at school and he'd sat me down in his study and explained, quietly, wi
Brielle's POVIan was on the phone when I came out of the bedroom. He sat at the kitchen table with his back to me, leaning forward the way he did when he thought he was winning something, shoulders tight, voice low but bright with the kind of energy he only ever had when Diana's name was involved."The council meets Friday," he said into the phone. "If your father pushes for consolidation, both hearings land on the same night. The shift and the blood test. One session. She won't survive it."I stopped in the doorway. Your father. He was talking to someone about my father's influence, and the someone wasn't me. Not James, either. James wouldn't have this conversation. James hadn't spoken to my father about strategy in months. Which meant Ian was on the phone with someone else who had a line to my father's study, someone in the network my father kept the way other men kept tools, sorted, sharpened, hung in reach.I didn't ask who. Asking who meant showing Ian that I cared, and showing







