The third connection formed on a Sunday.
Not in the library, as the first had been in the sitting room and the second on the library floor. Not in any of the spaces she'd been inhabiting since she came home.
In the workroom.
The small sitting room at the back of the house that had become Remy and Odessa's working space. She'd gone in that Sunday morning to find Remy still at the table from the previous night — she could tell by the quality of the tea in his cup, long cold — with the Aldric manuscript and three other texts arranged around him and the specific quality of someone who has been in a problem for many hours and has arrived, finally, at its centre.
He looked up when she came in.
She looked at him.
She looked at the texts.
"What did you find?" she said.
He looked at the man
