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“And as a man?”

“Noble. Grave. Proud.” His voice broke. “And haunted too. By what he could never be.”

Her face collapsed, the corners of her mouth dragging down as her eyes squeezed shut, a single sob escaping her lips.

This time, when Dom embraced her, he squeezed a little tighter. Just enough to let her stifle her tears and draw a little strength from whatever he could give.

“He would have been so proud of you,” Dom said, pulling back to look at her fully.

Corayne looked back up in disbelief, her eyes swimming. The candlelight wavered on her face, sharpening the lines of her cheeks and nose. What little she carried of her mother faded in the soft light, until Cortael stared out from her black eyes.

Then she shook her head and went back to the clothes. “Who knows what he would have thought of me,” she said roughly.

Her hands roved over the folded clothes, until they pulled out an old cape from years long past. The fabric was red and dusty, but well made. When she held it up to herself, the hem barely reached the floor, just her size.

“This was his,” she said, smoothing the soft scarlet. Roses bloomed along the edges, the thread still gleaming. “When he was young.”

I wish he could have metyou, Dom thought, his heart bleeding.I wish he could have known you as I do.

“I am proud of you too,” he added, though he thought it too obvious to have to say.

This time, Corayne beamed, smiling through still rolling tears. Hastily, she wiped at her face and draped the cape over her arm.

“I have come far indeed from that girl on the steps of a cottage,” she said, laughing at herself.

Dom gave her a stern look.

“I am not proud of what you’ve done already, Corayne,” he said quickly. “But what you choose to do. You are braver than any one of us. Without you—” He faltered, weighing his words carefully. “If you turned and ran, so would we. All of us.”

Her face fell again, and Dom winced.I have said the wrong thing. Curse my Vederan manner, he thought angrily.

But she did not cry again. Instead, her expression tightened, her thin lips pressing to nothing. She looked up at him through dark lashes, her tears disappearing.

“I think your monarch still plans to,” she hissed, so low even Dom could barely hear her.

He staggered back, head tipped in confusion.

“Isibel would not flee from Iona,” he whispered fiercely. “She is a coward, but she has nowhere to turn. She will fight because she must, and that will be enough.”

But Corayne was unconvinced.

“She does have somewhere to flee, Dom,” she shot back at him, teeth bared in frustration. “She may not know it yet, but—”

Her voice rose too high and she stopped herself, glancing back to the open doorway. Dom read the worry on her face plain as daylight.

“There is no one anywhere near us,” he said softly, listening for a heartbeat. There was only his own and Corayne’s, both pulsing quicker and quicker.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then nodded.

“I can feel a Spindle, here in Iona. Not fully, but there issomething.”

Dom felt his jaw drop, his confusion giving way to pure shock. And then disbelief, as much as he wanted to trust in Corayne.

She grabbed for his hand, holding it in her own, all but begging. “I know it in my bones, Dom.”

He could only blink, feeling the vault spin around him. “Cortael would have felt one, certainly.”

Corayne shook her head. “Spindles move, don’t they? Over years and years.” She did not let go of his hand, squeezing his fingers so tightly Dom feared for her bones. “Perhaps one is shifting here, returning to the place where your kind first came.”