Renna had commandeered the old records room by midmorning, its long table buried under fragments of parchment so brittle Vael had insisted on gloves before anyone touched them, and Marina stood in the doorway for a moment simply watching the three of them work, Renna and Vael and Astrid bent over the same table they might, only yesterday, have occupied as adversaries rather than allies.

"You're staring," Astrid said without looking up.

"I'm adjusting," Marina admitted. "Yesterday morning I was defending my right to exist in this pack on a platform. This morning I'm watching the man who orchestrated half of last night's chaos hand our best archivist a piece...