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started down the hall. Neither of us spoke. Instead I listened to the sound of our footsteps and the faint echo of the soldier’s behind us.
    We got to the suite, the lock clicking shut behind us. I watched Charles as he moved around the room, slinging his suit jacket over the armchair and loosening his tie. “You didn’t have to do that today,” I said. His back was toward me as he stepped out of his shoes.
    “Of course I did,” he said, pushing his hair off his face. “I wasn’t about to tell your father the truth. You know what kind of position that would’ve put you in.” He turned, and for the first time I noticed that his cheeks were splotchy and pink, as if he’d just come in from the cold. “No one can find out, Genevieve—no one.”
    “It’s not your problem to fix,” I said. “I did this.”
    After what happened at the construction site, I’d gone to my appointment with the doctor, then met Charles at the reception. The gratitude I’d felt for him had lessened, giving way to a kind of quiet resentment. He had saved me. He believed he had, at least, and I could feel the implied debt between us whenever his hand found mine, his fingers clamped down on my palm. We’re in this together , he seemed to say. I won’t leave you now.
    He pressed his palms to his face, then shook his head. “Is this your way of thanking me? I didn’t want this, you know, when we were married. I didn’t want to feel like I was some horrible, second choice forced upon you. I am trying here, and I always have been. You could’ve at least told me before you ambushed me at the site.”
    “I didn’t know until this morning,” I said. I stepped away from the door, trying to keep my voice down. I was thankful. What he’d done was kind and decent. He’d given me at least one more day inside the City walls, a chance to speak with Moss before I escaped. But I had never asked for his help.
    Charles rubbed his forehead. “You spend hours in the gardens, walking in circles, taking the same path three times as if it’s always new. I see the way you stare off when we’re at dinner. It’s like you’re in this unseen world that no one else can reach. I know you had feelings for him—”
    “I didn’t have feelings for him,” I corrected. “I love him.”
    “ Loved . He’s gone,” Charles said. My whole body went rigid, as if he’d pressed his fingers into a new bruise. “I don’t like what happened either, but I believe you could be happy. I believe that’s possible still.”
    Not with you . The words were so close to coming out. I held them somewhere behind my teeth, trying not to launch them unkindly. I studied Charles’s face, how oddly hopeful he looked, his eyes fixed on me, waiting. Yes, it would be easier if I felt something for him. But I couldn’t ignore the small, cowardly things about him. How he always said “what happened,” as if Caleb’s murder were some uncomfortable dinner party we’d attended weeks before.
    “I’m grateful for what you did today,” I said. “But it won’t change how I feel.” His eyes filled suddenly and he turned, hoping I wouldn’t see. I grabbed his hand without thinking. I held it there for a moment, feeling the heat in his palm. Even here and by my own doing, it felt strange and forced. Our fingers didn’t naturally fold into each other’s the way Caleb’s and mine had, the ease of it making it seem that was just the way fingers were supposed to be—entangled forever with someone else’s. I let go first, our arms dropping back to our sides.
    He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. He was more upset than I’d ever seen him. I sat down beside him, watching the side of his face, waiting until he turned to me. “Tell me this,” he said softly. “You were involved with the rebels. Is what they’re saying true?”
    I fixed my gaze on the floor. “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “How they took the labor camps,