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I drew a breath. “Who is it?”

“It’s Medra.”

My fingers stilled on a buckle. I finished with the boots, crossed the room, and opened the door. I tried to think of when I’d seen Medra Pendragon last—the night of the attack on Veilmar. We’d both been in the Avari tower. Then I’d left with Kage. We clashed with Viktor. I’d been taken. I realized I’d had no idea what Medra had been doing all this time. I hadn’t even asked if she was still alive.

“It’s really good to see you.” The words jerked out of my throat.

Medra’s green eyes widened. She was about my height, but with a more athletic build. Her curly red hair was pulled back from her face, showing her pointed rider’s ears. She wore Drakharrow colors—a soft dark crimson sweater over a short, pleated black skirt with high black lace-up boots. Freckles covered her face and collarbone, bright against her ivory skin. I’d thought she was ugly when I’d first seen her, but I’d been lying to myself. So, she wasn’t perfect, but I had to admit she had her good points.

I think what I’d hated most about her was how confident she’d looked. So sure of herself, even when surrounded by the most powerful people in the realm. She’d looked like she’d had every right to be on Blake’s arm—that was probably what I’d hated the most. He was hers now. But the thought didn’t cause me any pain.

Her lips twitched. “Careful, Regan, or word will get around about you. Wouldn’t want to let the secret out.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean? What secret?”

“That secretly you have a heart of gold.” Her mouth split into a grin as I flushed. “We wouldn’t want to destroy your mean-girl reputation, would we?”

I grimaced. “No, wouldn’t want that.”

Her face turned serious. “May I come in?”

I held the door open. “Be my guest.”

She gave me a look that said she saw more of what I was hiding than I wanted her to, then stepped in. Her gaze moved to the bed where the fluffin was still sleeping, nose tucked under his tail. “I see Neville’s made himself at home here.”

I felt suddenly self-conscious. “He’s been coming around on his own. I don’t know why. Maybe he misses her. He’s very … persistent.” I suddenly realized what I’d said. I was back. Her friend was not.

But Medra didn’t look put off. “Neville picks his targets carefully.”

“If I’m his target, I must be the most pathetic one he’s ever chosen.” My cheeks warmed. Why had I said that?

Her expression softened. “I think Neville is wiser than you give him credit for. He knows where he’s needed the most.”

I sat down in a chair by the hearth, the lilac dress pooling around my knees. I touched a hand self-consciously to the white scarf around my neck, making sure it was in place, as Medra took the chair opposite me. For a few moments, we sat in silence.

“How are you?” she asked finally. She grimaced. “Sorry. I know no one ever wants to answer that question.”

“It’s all right. Honestly, I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I was thinking of going out today.”

“Have you … not been going out?”

I shook my head.

“I know a little of what happened. But not much.”

My stomach tightened. I didn’t want to be known. I didn’t want anyone knowing the details of what had happened to me. The sordid things Viktor had done. The ways the others had hurt me.

“But I know I have yet another reason to want to tear Viktor apart with my bare hands,” she went on.

I stared at her. Trying to wrap my head around the idea that Medra Pendragon felt protective of me.

“No one is saying anything bad about you, Regan,” Medra said softly. “We’re just glad you’re back. Everyone thinks you’re very brave. Kage told us about Veilmar.”

I forced myself to meet her eyes. This girl’s arrival shook my world. I’d treated her like garbage. I’d been petty and cruel. I remembered the Consort Games, standing back to back with her, fighting to survive. She’d helped me then, even after all I’d done. It felt like it was another lifetime ago. “I’m surprised you want to talk to me at all, after all I’ve done,” I said bluntly.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” she said immediately. “I hope you know that.”

I raised a hand. “I know. And I know this is far too late, but … I want to say I’m sorry. For everything.” I took a deep breath. “I wish I’d been different that first day we’d met. I wish … I wish I hadn’t just pretended to be kind.”