Twump. Twump.

Lapis frowned, glancing down the empty hall. The rush around securing Meinrad’s mansion and its cleanup, plus the preparations for Midir’s speech, had emptied the House of all but a few guards, those manning the comms, and the khentauree downstairs. Who was still there?

She readjusted the clothing bundle in her arms; before leaving to oversee the second-to-final tech check at the Lells, Faelan had smiled wide and shoved three hangers at her, the items in snug, protective covers. She blinked at them, looked at him, and he told her they were the uniforms she and Patch needed to wear during the speech. Oh, and could she hand the third to Jhor?

Then he looped a bag with boots on her shoulder, grinned wider at her extreme lack of enthusiasm, and took himself away.

Grumbling, she continued towards the sound; Jhor’s room was on the way, so she could check on the noise before dumping the items off. Good thing someone marked everything with name tags; how embarrassing, to give him the size meant for Patch.

No one else strode down the hall, no one sat in the lounge rooms, and she realized the thumping came from Jhor’s suite. What strange device did he play with that issued such a strange sound?

She halted in the doorway, expecting to see him hunched over his desk, intent on whatever tech he studied. Instead, he punched a stuffed leather bag hanging from a large hook embedded in the ceiling. He hit hard, fast; sweat poured down his shirtless torso, stuck stray strands of hair to his face, soaked his pants, proving he had been at this a long while.

The device that had controlled the khentauree sat on a table, hooked into his tech. The screen had lines of code, a blinking box at the end. She looked at him, took in his obliviousness, his trembling lower lip, his narrowed eyes and upturned eyebrows, and felt tears sting her orbs.

“Need to talk?”

He jerked in startlement and grabbed the bag, then released it so it slowly spun in a circle rather than swinging back and forth. He glanced at her, puffing, and ran a hand through his bangs, smoothing the wet strands over the top of his head before removing his hairband and re-tying it.

“Or I can get you some water. You look like you need it.”

He shook his head and snagged a jug from the table. He chugged the contents, wiped his mouth, and set it down with a thunk next to the dismantled tech.

“Is that wake juice?” she asked, suspicious.

He chuckled, though not with his normal humor. “No, it’s water, though I wouldn’t mind some wake juice.”

“Have you slept at all?”

He stared at the drops of sweat that had dribbled onto the carpet, then shook his head.

Lapis raised the handful of stuff in her hands. “Well, this isn’t going to brighten your evening, but I brought you gifts from Midir. They want us to dress in uniform for the speech.”

He wormed his mouth to the side, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. “What kind of uniform?”

“Something that represents an association with the new government.” She flumped hers and Patch’s over on her right arm and held the last out to him; he carefully took it and pulled the covering off.

Dark crimson and gold were Midir’s family colors, so that made sense, but the tunic and pants did not look as extravagant as she expected. Braided embroidery decorated the hems and cuffs, true, but the pattern did not scream fancy livery. The leather duster with a padded interior looked warm, and fit Jhor’s style better than other choices. Gold cloth with braided edges shimmered on the shoulders, elbows, and cuffs, and the large buttons glittered.

He stroked the material, then touched the padding. “I was expecting something atrocious,” he admitted. “I’ve worn my share of terrible uniforms.”

Lapis hefted the pack slung over her elbow, and he set the clothing over his chair’s back before grabbing it and peering inside. He withdrew ankle-high boots with rugged bottoms, his name on a tag dangling from a lace; no slipping on ice or snow in those.

“This doesn’t strike me as a style everyone’s wearing.”

“It isn’t. As far as I could tell, everyone’s getting something they feel comfortable in, rather than something that matches one-to-one.” She readjusted her armful; they were heavy! “Patch’s is black. I doubt they could get him into anything else.”

Jhor laughed as he set the shoes down. “Path says they have sashes for any khentauree who wish to come. She's dancing with hers.”

“The sashes are nice. I’m glad I’ll have something warmer.”

“I’m making certain they’re ready for the speech. They need to be mobile and swift, in case things go poorly, so they’re going to be in a heated room beforehand and they’ll be wearing coats with hot bricks in them. We’re working on something like a caparison that can retain heat but not interfere with movement.”

He glanced at the device, sad pain flickering across his face.

Lapis folded the clothing in half, set the bundle on a table next to random metal somethings, and shut the door. “I’m serious,” she told him, hoping he accepted her sympathy. “Sometimes talking helps.”

He studied the door, then her. “Does it help you?”

She pushed the ghost of a smile to her lips. “Most of the time.” He did not have to know how often she bottled her problems, only to have them burst forth at a later, more inconvenient, date.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with his forefinger and thumb. “I almost had it,” he whispered. “Another two lines of code forcing them to run the program, and I could have kept the chassis from exploding. I could have saved them. I could have prevented injuries on our side. I wasn’t fast enough.”

His agony pricked something dark and deep. The unfairness of life erupted, and the scream of the khentauree she failed to help roared through her memory, with remembrances of her family and unfortunate rats cantering after. A tear raced down her cheek, and she rubbed at it. “If you’re going to blame yourself, you’re going to have to blame me and Chiddle, too. We took too long in getting that box to you.” He frowned and looked at her. “I didn’t trust Lars, but if I’d rushed them to the mansion, if—”

He sighed, as if the entire city of Jiy sat on his shoulders and they ached. “I wasn’t thinking of it that way.”

“I know. For me, it’s hard not to blame myself when something goes wrong. I always replay it, wondering what I could have done differently. Sounds like you do that, too.”

“I keep going over what I did. I mistyped a few lines, had to delete the command and re-run the correct one. If I had calmed down, focused . . .” He flumped into the desk chair, leaned on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

Lapis hooked another seat with her boot, pulled it next to him, and plunked down before setting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You did your best, even scared. When Ghost, Chiddle and Sanna took me into the woods? I couldn’t function, I was so afraid. My past caught me, and I couldn’t see around it. But you? You raced to fix what needed fixing. And I bet, you’d endanger yourself again, to help.”

He dropped his hands, and they dangled limply between his legs. He stared at the carpet rather than her. “I wasn’t in that much danger.”

“Those shields weren’t the stablest of defenses. They easily could have broken and exposed everyone hiding behind them to something worse. I mean, the enemy wanted to take out an entire mansion and leave nothing but a smoking hole, and rigged the khentauree to do just that. You knew it, and you still sat in danger’s way and worked to save the vulnerable. You do it all the time, too. The reason you wanted to visit Ambercaast was to find a way to help others.”

“Others I maimed,” he reminded her in a low, harsh voice.

“Second chances aren’t supposed to be easy. Second chances are where you pour your heart and soul into changing not only yourself, but the world. You take risks you otherwise wouldn’t, to see things right. That’s what you’re doing. It’s hard. You’re going to fail, and others will suffer. But you keep trying because in the end, you’ll save so many more. I wish—” and her voice cracked. She swallowed, rubbed her throat, then pushed the words out. “I wish that was all it took to save others. It’s not, but we can’t give up until it is.”

He looked at her with bloodshot eyes, and she wondered how much of his sweat had been tears. “Never give up.”

“And when it gets hard, reach for us. If nothing else, I’ll buy you a drink at the Eaves. We all have to ignore life when the burdens crush us. We all have to do something to salve our souls so we can continue fighting.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Salve our souls. I think I need to do that. It’s not like the khentauree are going anywhere until Sanna badgers them all into overwriting the bad code.”

“I’ll dump the clothes, grab my coat, and we can walk to the Eaves. You can even use my bed when you pass out.”

“Generous.” He laughed and squeezed her hand before rising. “I’ll tell Sanna I’m going out and I’ll be in company. She’s worried, and I don’t want to add to it.”

“I don’t know if the khentauree need to salve their souls, either, but they’re welcome at the Eaves.”

He paused and looked at her. “You think khentauree have souls?”

“So do you, or you wouldn’t be mourning the ones lost.”

The blankness that crossed his face concerned her, then he half-laughed, set his hands on his hips, bit his lip, and regarded her thoughtfully. “Huh. Yeah. I guess I do.”