Helena stood, studying the stark world around her, cast in black and silver.
She felt lost. Kaine’s injury was eating into her detachment. She could feel herself losing focus. Now that he was showing signs of recovery, she couldn’t let herself forget her task.
Hold his attention. Make him loyal. Or obsessed. Whichever came more readily. As vital as his information was, he remained a liability if his service was solely at his own discretion.
Undying. Murderer. Spy. Target. Tool.
She repeated the list to herself, but her conviction in them rang hollow.
The motives Crowther attributed to Kaine felt like an ill-fitted façade, something that Kaine hid behind. Helena was an alchemist; she was not in the habit of manipulating or altering things until she understood their nature.
She crossed
