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He winced, the pain in his eyes growing more visible. Shielding his face with a hand, he rubbed his temples, jaw hard.

“Did they find anything?” he said. “In D.C.?”

Looking at him, I let some of my exasperation out, despite the guilt and grief coming off him, and the tired expression on his face.

“That depends,” I said, sarcastic. “It might help if I had anyfucking ideawhat they’d been sent there to find, Revik.”

He looked over. His clear eyes reflected a gleam of surprise.

“What do you mean?” He frowned. “I sent them therebecauseof you. It was your dream they were following. The one about the White House. About the safe underground.”

I stared at him.

For a long moment, I couldn’t answer.

I honestly just assumed he sent Loki’s team to D.C. as part of some side-project he hadn’t bothered to tell me about. Looking at him now, I realized he’d done it more as a favor to me, maybe even as a means of showing me he trusted my visions, that he wanted to follow more of those prescient clues coming to me.

Something about the realization brought tears to my eyes.

Guilt overcame me in the same set of minutes.

I’d come in here to try to reason with him, but also to handle him––to push him into a compromise so we wouldn’t fight. Looking at him now, I realized he’d approached this conversation more honestly than I had.

He’d also tried harder, and with less selfish reasons, to apologize.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “Shit.” I gave a humorless laugh, not looking at him. “I thought you just didn’t bother to loop me in.”

There was a silence while he sat there.

I could feel him thinking about what I’d said.

“…And I’m sorry I dressed you down out there.” Giving another unhappy laugh, I wiped my eyes, still crying for some reason, and now embarrassed about that, too. “I hated talking to you like that in front of them. I felt like you gave me no choice… which made me pissed as hell at you. Things just feel too damnedfragileright now. We can’t have a split in the command structure. We can’t. And I can’t look weak in front of them, even if you are my husband. I know it’s just psychology, but hell, they need to haveconfidencein me, or I shouldn’t be leading. They’ll never trust me to get them through this, not if they see me as some kind of––”

“Shhh,” he broke in.

He was on his feet, and across the room before I knew what he intended.

Before I could move away, he was in front of me, holding my arms.

“I’m sorry.” He gripped a handful of my long curls at the back of my head, even as he pressed closer to me, lowering his mouth to my ear. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

I shook my head.

I didn’t want his apologies, either.

“What do you want?” he murmured.

I gave a short laugh. That one didn’t have much humor in it, either.

“You probably shouldn’t ask me that right now,” I said.

“Why not?”

I felt my jaw harden, right before I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Because a big part of me wants to shove you around with my light some more.”

I saw his eyes change subtly, right before he looked down my body. A flicker of pain slid around his light and then into mine, even as I felt him fight to suppress it. Shaking my head, I leaned against the railing, feeling my chest ease, right before I let out another half-laugh.

That one had more actual humor in it.