The pale figure did not stay solid for long.
She flickered at the edges like a candle in wind, and I understood instinctively that maintaining a physical form outside the In Between was costing her something she did not have in unlimited supply. I stepped closer and felt the pull of her immediately, a magnetic drag toward my own sternum, the specific ache of something that belonged inside me pressing against the boundary that separated us.
“How long do you have?” I asked.
“Minutes,” she said. “Possibly less.” Her eyes, my eyes, moved to Caelan with an expression I recognized because I had felt it myself standing in the east gallery looking at a man with a dead king’s face. “He needs to hear this before I go back.”
Caelan stepped forward without being asked. Whatever he felt about a lum
