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Ruby startled. “What?”

Slate flicked his hand. The lost soul dissipated with a sorrowful cry.

Ruby gasped, whirling on him. “Where did you send him?”

“Tormentum,” Slate replied.

Ruby gaped. “Thesufferingvoid? Why? He wanted to go with Deidre!”

“Deidre would not be happy to see him,” Slate explained. “I saw his heart. And I caught glimpses of hers. He slayed her after she laid with another. Her family slayed him in return. They bound him to the suffering void. Where someone wants to be and where they must be do not always match.”

“Oh. I thought…” Ruby wilted, confused.

The dog spirit nudged her hand. She petted him distractedly, but the troubled look did not fade.

Slate’s hand curled around the chocolate, careful not to clench too hard this time.

“You were doing well,” he offered. “Lost souls rarely recognize anyone, let alone a living soul. How did you get him to listen?”

Ruby frowned. “Many people don’t want to speak to a witch. You must find a way to make them, or you can never help.”

Not for the first time since he met Ruby, Slate was in the surprising position of admiring a mortal. From his limited experience with them, they seemed nasty and brutish, clamoring to grab whatever they could despite their short, meaningless lives.

Ruby stood apart from that. Even when talking to a lost soul she had never met. Even when helping a town who didn’t want to speak to her. She had been prepared to give herlife.

It was a shame she would be gone from this world so fast. The mortal realm needed more like her.

“How could you tell?” Ruby asked. “About Deidre?”

“I read his heart. It is something I can do with lost souls in my void.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Can you readmyheart?”

Slate huffed a laugh. “You are not lost. You are not part of my void.”

“Oh.”

Slate expected her to look relieved. But Ruby looked almost disappointed as she absorbed this information, fiddling with her dress.

Slate cleared his throat. “I?—”

“Why does the light never change?” Ruby asked. Then she winced. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He tucked the chocolate into his loincloth. “Never mind. You were asking about the light?”

Ruby nodded, pointing up at the sky. “It’s always evening.”

Slate looked up at the familiar purples and blacks, trying to remember the last time it had looked different. He couldn’t. Was he really getting so ignorant about his own void? Not noticing lost souls, not even noticing the light changing…

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said honestly.

He reached into his sleeve again. But before he could grip the chocolate, he heard himself ask, “What doeshoity toitymean?”

Ruby’s full mouth twitched.

“Stuck up,” she said flatly. “Conceited. Why?”

“No reason.” Slate gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt odd. He did not smile often, and it seemed to alarm her.