"Grey looks stressed," I mutter to Owen at breakfast.
From our usual table, I can see Lyra sitting with her friends. Something about her is definitely missing today. The brightness and focus she usually carries about her seems dimmed. Almost gone entirely. She is eating, but it looks mechanical.
"She is very stressed," Owen confirms quietly.
I turn to him. "Because of what my grandfather said?"
Owen's interest sharpens his expression.
"Yes. How do you know?" he asks.
"Because he had me shadow her evening patrols for the last two months," I say quietly, much to his surprise. "Grey was nearby or the focus of four separate rogue events. He would not tell me why anyone would be targeting her, though. He has been annoyingly light on the details."
"They were targeted?" Owen asks, looking
