I woke before dawn, but the room felt wrong before I even opened my eyes.
No hum. No complaint about how long I'd slept, no warning that I was late for something Symon would've cared about, and I didn't.
Just silence.
I lay there a while, listening for it anyway.
Three days since the cemetery. Three days I'd barely noticed, between the accusations, the vacation notice, Vax crying on the back steps. I'd told myself it was exhaustion — his or mine, whatever exhaustion even meant for something stretched across two bodies.
Three days was a long time to call it that.
But three days was a long time for exhaustion. I sat up.
"Grey."
The screen flickered into place beside the bed.
"Yes, Lord Symon."
"I haven't heard him in three days."
"I'm aware."
"You could've said something."
"You
