Page 192 of Dark Night of the Soul

“And if he’s not?” Anna asked.

“Then we find another way.” Silas’s gaze shifted to me. “We always do.”

That was the end of it. Ludwig and Ulrich filed out first, already talking under their breath. Anna stayed a heartbeat longer, jaw tight, then exhaled. “I need air.”

And she was gone. I knew where she’d go.

Silas didn’t move.

“That favor I asked you for,” I said. “Where are we on that?”

I wanted Anna’s mother here sooner rather than later—especially after the latest information bomb.

“It’s in progress,” he said. “But it’s been on hold since you were—”

“I’m fine,” I cut in. I wasn’t. I was functional. “When?”

“When do you want me to bring her?”

“A week. No more than two. Whenever you can make it happen,” I said. “Somewhere local. Public. A park. Open sightlines. No surprises.” My mouth tightened. “They need a conversation without interference.”

Silas gave a faint nod. “I’ll set it up. And Kincade,” Silas added. “If she doesn’t like the fortress, remind her why it exists.”

It was dusk when I found her sitting alone in the courtyard, legs drawn up in the chair beneath her. String lights bathed the flagstone in a faint yellow glow, and the fountain’s underwater lamps turned the falling water into something softer.

She was clutching her elbows like she could fold herself smaller and conserve warmth. The breeze was cold. She wasn’t dressed for it—bare feet, short sleeves—like the chill didn’t get a vote. Stubborn. Even with the weather.

Her head tipped when she heard my steps, but she didn’t look up.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

“Thinking,” she said.

“All day?”

“Yes.”

Alone. She’d found sanctuary away from everyone. Including me. That stung. But I understood it.

She didn’t move for a long moment. She sat perfectly still, staring past the fountain like it might have answers. I waited.

“I wanted to see what the courtyard looked like with the string lights,” she said.

There was truth in that. And something underneath it she wasn’t giving me. I felt it anyway—the hum of it under my skin. The bond picking up what she wouldn’t say.

“You’re still angry.”

“Yes,” she said, still not looking at me.

“It’s cold,” I said. “Come inside.”

She lifted her gaze to mine. The lights caught in her eyes, and I saw it all at once. Anger, despair, annoyance sharpened into something that hurt.

“Is this what my life has come to?” she asked. “Hiding behind cameras and guards and men loyal to you, pretending that’s normal?”

Then she huffed, the sound bitter. “I wonder what Uncle Edward would think of all that.”

“He’d think it was safer than what it was before,” I said.