Dawn crept over the palace roof in thin grey bands, turning the wet slate the colour of pewter. Didi sat against the chimney stack with her knees drawn up, staring at blood crusted on her fingers.
Frost still clung to her right hand, left behind by the dagger that froze to her palm.
Every time she flexed it, tiny cracks of ice ran up her wrist, ringing like a distant bell. The Underworld murmured in her ears besides, soft as a draught under a door, repeating her brother's name.
A bakery bell rang somewhere in the lower city, thin and cheerful against the quiet roof.
A blanket appeared around her shoulders near midnight, placed there by someone who never spoke a single word. Now she understood who, because the man sitting an arm's length away kept his careful silence even now.
"You should be asleep," she said, her voice scraped raw.
"So should you, Highness," Hajin said, handing her a tin cup of tea gone cold hours ago.
"I do not sleep when I am being sensible."
