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“That is his story.”

Kesta respected the boundary enough not to press.

Nethra started away, then stopped.

“He learned the wrong lesson when she died.”

Kesta watched her disappear into the market.

Behind her, Dreven laughed at something Keth said.

The sound was brief.

Low.

Human enough to make the word condemned feel suddenly inadequate.

Mira’s ashfall began at dusk.

Kesta found Lina awake in the infirmary, gripping the blanket with both hands while Sera adjusted the supports beneath her splinted leg. Someone had washed her hair. Without the dust and dried blood of the journey, she looked younger.

Too young.

“I can’t go,” Lina whispered when Kesta approached.

Kesta sat beside the cot rather than standing over her. “All right.”

Lina blinked.

“You’re not going to tell me I have to?”

“No.”

“But if I don’t see it—” Her voice broke. “If I don’t see them burn her, some part of me can keep pretending she’s alive.”

Kesta rested her forearms on her knees.

“That part may keep pretending anyway.”

Tears gathered in Lina’s eyes.

“I keep thinking I should have done something.”

“You were in another pod.”

“I should have been with her.”

“You couldn’t.”

“She was always the brave one.”

Kesta looked at her.

“She was brave when I knew her,” she said carefully. “She was also terrified.”

Lina swallowed.

Kesta continued before sentiment could turn Mira into someone, she had never been. “She cried. She fought the guards. She was afraid she was going to die. None of that made her less brave.”