Sebastian led me to a corridor off the main reception room, past a set of double doors that opened onto a narrow terrace overlooking the city. The wind was cold and sharp at forty-two floors and the noise of the room dropped away behind us like something cut with a blade.
He closed the door.
We stood for a moment with the city spread below us, all that light and distance, and I let the silence sit between us without rushing to fill it. Sebastian was the kind of person who respected silence. I had learned that in my first life and it still held.
“How much do you actually know?” he said finally.
“Enough to be standing here,” I said. “Not enough to know what to do with it yet.”
He turned and leaned against the terrace railing, arms crossed, studying me with an expression that was more ca
