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us soon, why can’t we just leave now?
    But Ren’s eyes are closed, his hands resting on his chest. I let my gaze linger for a moment on his long legs and socked feet, on the bruise shining near his eye. His lip is swollen too. He got it worse than I did.
    “They won’t kill Haraway tonight, Ambry,” he says, his voice croaky. “Get some sleep. You need it.”
    I plunk down on my own cot—if it can be called that. It might as well be a table for all the comfort it provides right now.
    Ren might be able to sleep, but I can’t. Though the Arcs who found us are dead and probably being disposed of right now, the fight still hasn’t ended for me. I saw enough of that foyer out there to find the exit. But I have to be certain Dircey and Micro won’t be there to catch me sneaking out.
    Darkness settles in, along with the sounds of the city. Ren’s rhythmic breathing soon fills the space.
Dircey and the others, they’ll sleep soon,
I tell myself.
Not much longer now.
I let my lids rest, determined to stay awake in the meantime, determined to master my thoughts.
    When I wake to a soft dusting of light through the window, I bolt as if from a cold plunge of water. Hair mats against my forehead, and I touch my chest and reorient myself with the crumbling ceiling. Ren is still breathing gently in the cot across from me, a slight snore on his exhale.
    The final remnant of a dream still lingers. Talon, standing before me, as handsome as ever, riddled with light scars and his hands hugged by fingerless black gloves. Everything about him was the same—the force of his glance, the hunter’s gait of his boots crunching the ground—except the shackles circling his wrists and keeping his hands inches in front of his stomach.
    Shackles.
    While I sleep, he’s in shackles. What am I still doing here?
    I hurry to slip into my jeans—which I sloughed off beneath the covers, hoping Ren wouldn’t notice. I check out the empty street outside, the streetlamps still pouring light in various corners.
    The door is locked, but that’s not anything to hold me back, not while everyone is hopefully still sleeping. With a sure inhale and a stem of magic, I coerce the lock into a silent undoing and turn the knob as quietly as I can.
    I enter into the expansive foyer, recognizing the bloodstains on the floor, the line-up of doors and the columns near the descending stairs. Even as I tiptoe, my steps echo on the marble.
    “You shouldn’t have been able to get out of that room.”
    Dircey stands behind me in baggy pajama pants and a tank top. Her black-and-white hair hangs loose this time, the top is white, the bottom layers slowly fading to black and blending with her dark tank.
    “It wasn’t Ren,” I say, all nerves. “He’s on your side.”
    To my surprise, Dircey nods. “Those soldiers didn’t go for us. The one Micro stopped was heading for you two. That Arc couldn’t have sensed Micro’s magic. The talisman he wears protects him from their detection.”
    “So you believe me? Us?”
    “Why else did they focus on you two? We’re Black Vault, little sister. Tyrus has been after me for years. Yet those soldiers headed straight for the Csilles.”
    I don’t say anything.
    Dircey steps closer, looking up at me.
    “They’re newer soldiers; they’ve got to be. They didn’t recognize me or Micro. Tyrus didn’t send them specifically for us, and they wouldn’t have been after you and Ren if Ren had been the one to summon them here.”
    “We didn’t summon them. We’ve stayed in that room. We’ve done everything you asked.”
    Dircey looks down her nose at me. “You really got his magic back,” she says, though it’s not a question. More like an acceptance.
    It’s my turn to nod. I thought she was younger, but this close up I catch the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, and the laugh lines in her cheeks.
    “Better get some sleep, little sister,” she says before padding off down the hall.
    I pause for the smallest