It isn’t hard to see a new face in the audience. There’s vanishingly few of them, after all, but he knows the look on her face, and opts to leave her to her peace.

And then all of a sudden, he recognizes her in the waning of the light.

“Oh,” he murmurs, hushed and breathless. She would hurt him—she would hurt him only if it meant returning his mind to him and his heart to safety, knowing how much more valuable one’s sanity is over their body. In other words, she would never hurt him.

“Arrayer.” His arms open. “Please, come here.”