They were back in Ulek. Samir was still cross-legged against one wall, with Bolt curled against his side and Krys tucked into his arm. Somehow, in all that, Ruan had leaned in, so his shoulder pressed into Varajas’s as they sat side by side against the opposite wall. They all three were looking at each other.

The silence was not entirely awkward. At this point, they had shared too much for awkwardness. But there was a heaviness in the air, fear and pain that Varajas could almost taste. Because they still didn’t trust each other. Not yet.

“You killed her,” Ruan said.

Which made Samir bristle. “Yes. I did.”

Varajas was tired. He could see what had just happened. Samir’s own fear and guilt had read recrimination into Ruan’s words—recrimination that hadn’t been there. Samir was waiting for them to condemn him, because a part of him still believed what he’d done was wrong.

Varajas knew guilt. Varajas had done plenty of wrong things in his life. A solid percentage of them he’d just had to watch play out again with an audience to observe. Of the three people in this room, Samir had the least to be guilty about.

“I think,” he said, “we could all use some time. Tell me, Samir, is this the same magic? Are we—is it like what Sidaine was doing?”

That question seemed to calm him, as Varajas had hoped. A factual question about magic, rather than anything more emotional. “It is and it isn’t. In Sidaine’s magic, we were trapped in a mental construct, minds and bodies separated. This place—it’s a construct, of a sort, but I believe we’re here. Actually, physically present. The feel of everything—the magic is similar enough that I can get a hold of it. But it’s not exactly the same, which means I’m not sure yet how we got here, or how to get us out.”

That was good enough for Varajas. “There are plenty of pieces we need to put together. Sidaine’s magic, the influence of the knife. Peyter and Girald—whatever they’ve done. Whatever magic might have been present already before they got here. But it’s been a long day for all of us. I don’t know about you, but I could use some time to just…not think about things for a while.”

Samir nodded. He still looked wary, his face, his body language, closed off.

Varajas glanced at Ruan at the same moment Ruan was turning to him. Ruan’s eyes flickered to Samir, and his lips pressed together. “We’ve been in here a while,” he said. “I’m going to do a patrol of the halls, make sure nothing’s snuck up on us.”

Perhaps it was because they’d just relived all that time together, but the effortless, wordless communication had come back. Varajas understood exactly what Ruan wasn’t saying. They all needed some time, yes, but they needed to talk to Samir, and it would be more comfortable if they didn’t look like they were ganging up on him. So Ruan was giving Varajas some space.

“Shout if you get in any trouble,” Varajas said back to him. Giving his own quick glance at Samir and offering Ruan a hint of a nod.

“Bolt,” Ruan invited, and the dog jumped up and trotted to his side.

That was good. Bolt seemed to have a good sense of this place. He’d keep anything from sneaking up on them.

Not that Varajas was entirely sure what—if anything—might actually be in here with them. The spiders had seemed real enough. The shadows in the courtyard? Less so. Maybe. It was possible real was the wrong metric to be using. More the question of what could hurt them and what couldn’t.

These were questions for later.

Samir watched Ruan and Bolt leave, a faraway look on his face. One finger stroked Krys’s head in a repetitive rhythm. Soothing the bat or soothing himself? Varajas expected it was a little bit of both.

There was a gulf of words between them. Lies and failures and betrayals—some that Varajas had known as he had committed them, and other pains Varajas had visited on Samir without knowledge or intent, but that didn’t change what had happened.

“I’m sorry.”

Samir blinked, seemed to come back to himself. “You keep saying that.”

“It turns out I have a lot to apologize for.” Still searching for a way to bridge the distance, he asked, “After you escaped Sidaine, where did you go? What did you do?”

Samir’s answer was merely in words. Whether that was because he was simply tired, or because the energy that had driven him to make Ruan and Varajas experience his nightmare had faded, it was hard to say.

“I ran, of course. I’d just killed someone. I didn’t know if anyone else was coming after me. I didn’t know what anyone even knew about what had happened to me after I graduated.

“I couldn’t go back to the Star. I…I don’t know where I would have gone or what would have become of me if Sheluna hadn’t found me. Or rather, one of her wizards found me and took me to her.”

That memory evoked a ghost of a smile on Samir’s face. “She never even asked what had happened to me. I told her, eventually. But at first, she just…took care of me. She gave me a Wing sigil and wouldn’t let anyone else question it. She helped me find Krys.” Warmth and affection blossomed on his face as he looked down at the bat. “She put me back together, and never asked anything from me in return.”

This was so out of synch with everything Varajas knew about Sheluna. In his mind, she was the ruthless, vengeful archwizard who had made certain the knights never knew a moment of peace from the magic trying to tear their castle apart.

Something of that must have shown on his face. “I know that’s not how most people think of her. But then, Darkivels have a reputation, don’t they? Everyone knows to be afraid of them.”

“Just like the Wizard Knights,” Varajas said wryly.

“Savor the irony.”

In this moment of peace, the first they’d had in a while, as Samir sat there, fresh from immersion in a more horrific memory than Varajas could even wrap his mind around and making quips about irony while gazing at Varajas with a calm, even look, Varajas was reminded just how much he liked Samir. And how fucked his life had become that even the simple act of liking someone became fraught and dangerous and so very, very complicated.

“Samir, I—”

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’ again, I’m going to yell. I know, okay? You’re sorry. Ruan is sorry. Everyone is sorry. It doesn’t change anything. Things are as they are.”

It was the same flat, practical tone he’d heard from Samir the first day of the trip when he’d found Samir riding alone in the jungle. The easy, matter-of-factness that Varajas was starting to recognize as Samir’s defense. It was a barrier he erected to keep himself safe.

And maybe, just maybe, he was putting it there to see if anyone was willing to bother with the work of breaking through.

“All right,” Varajas said. “Let me tell you what I’m not sorry for. I’m not sorry that I met you. I’m not sorry I’ve had this chance to get to know you, even if this has been the most fucked up first date in all of creation. I’m not sorry to see all these new sides of the mistakes I’ve made. I know I’ve made plenty, and maybe this will help me keep from making more.

“In the end, what I’m most not sorry for is that all the errors and mis-steps still led me to this moment, to sitting here with you.”

Samir didn’t say anything, but his hand on Krys had stilled.

Varajas got to his feet, never looking away as he crossed the room and crouched down in front of Samir. “If it were in my power, I would take away every hurt that’s ever been visited upon you. I know I can’t do that. No one can. But knowing that isn’t going to stop me from trying to do everything I can to make it better.”

He lifted his hand to Samir’s cheek, brushing back a bit of hair that had fallen forward. Samir was still perfectly still, looking up at him. They’d seen so much of each other, thanks to the magic of this place. They’d been each other, and that made this harder and easier and more complicated than anything Varajas had ever experienced.

This much, though, he knew. This much he could do. He leaned in, slow enough Samir could pull away if he wanted. He didn’t, instead, tilting his head up to meet Varajas halfway. Their lips brushed, soft at first, then more intense as Varajas moved his hand to the back of Samir’s head to pull him even closer.

“Ruan…” Samir said, whispering the word against Varajas’s cheek.

“I know.” Everything was complicated. “I know.”

Samir leaned back just enough to put breathing space between them. “I don’t want to come between anyone.”

Varajas leaned his forehead against Samir’s and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what there is to come between. You saw…well, you saw everything.”

“I did.” Samir gave him one more quick kiss, then gently pushed Varajas back. “And I appreciate you two are trying to protect my delicate feelings, but we should probably call him back. We all need to be here to figure out what we’re going to do next.”