The recorder did not remember what Evelyn had said.
He remembered entering the alcove. He remembered writing. When Voss asked him the woman’s name, he frowned at the empty page as though it had failed to give him an answer he ought to know.
Aurelia said it aloud.
“Evelyn Baptiste.”
Recognition flickered, then faded.
Nia backed toward the door. “That is an extremely unacceptable development.”
Alessandro examined the terminal with his hands held carefully away.
“A redaction ward. Not ordinary forgetting. It interferes with a record of a particular event.”
“Why do we remember?” Azalea asked.
“Our contact with the channel varied. You were directly linked to the vessel. Voss knew Evelyn before the event. My own wards are older than this installation.” He looked at the recorder. “None of those protections were deliberate. We cannot rely on them.”
Aurelia’s memory remained exact. Every word. Every movement of Evelyn’s hand. It was usually a burden. For once, she was grateful for it.
They left the alcove and disconnected it from the infirmary system. Outside the shielded wing, the recorder began retaining what they told him again.
The effect was local.
For now.
* * *
Rafael brought the original installation record to his father before anyone asked him for it.
Aurelia watched from Voss’s desk as he laid it down.
“I bypassed inspection. I concealed the connection. When Aurelia asked whether I recognized the conduit, I lied.”
Their father read the document without looking up.
“You will surrender your ward authorization until the independent inquiry is complete.”
Rafael unfastened the green insignia from his collar.
“Yes.”
Matteo stood near the door. This time, he did not intervene.
After the others moved away, Rafael approached Aurelia.
“I told myself I could solve it before anyone knew I’d made a mistake.”
“You told me to be honest about my limits.”
He looked down at the bandage still covering her hand.
“Yes.”
“Did you think those rules were only for me?”
He took the question seriously enough to leave it unanswered for a while.
“I think I expected you to need correction,” he said at last. “I didn’t ask what you knew.”
It was closer to the truth than an apology about good intentions.
“What are you going to do differently?” she asked.
“Give the investigators everything. Ask before I advise you.”
She nodded once. “Start there.”
* * *
Nico arrived with a tray of food and a notebook.
“The cook said you hadn’t ordered.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He set the tray beside her, then opened the notebook to a blank page.
“What can you eat after using magic?”
Aurelia stared at him.
“I know what Azalea likes,” he said. “I realized I don’t know what you like.”
She could have punished him for the lateness of the question. Part of her wanted to.
Instead, she said, “Nothing too sweet at first.”
He wrote it down.
“Soup is usually good.”
He wrote that too.
The gesture was almost painfully awkward. It was also something she could measure. Tomorrow, if he brought soup, she would know he had listened.
* * *
Cassian found her in the covered walkway after sunset.
He stayed several feet away. Rain tapped the glass roof, and lamps laid soft gold along his brown skin. His injured shoulder sat stiffly beneath his coat.
“My father contacted yours,” he said.
Aurelia’s stomach tightened. “About the bond?”
“Yes. He described it as an opportunity to repair a misunderstanding.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
“I told him he was not to approach you. Or negotiate anything on my behalf.”
“What did he say?”
“Several things about my judgment.”
“Were any of them accurate?”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth. “Some.”
Aurelia looked toward the wet gardens.
“I’m not an alliance you failed to notice.”
“I know.”
“I need to know you’d have learned that even if the crystal stayed clear.”
He took a breath. “I can’t prove a different past.”
“No.”
“I can stop making you responsible for what I do next.”
The bond stirred with his nearness. She wanted to step closer and was angry that wanting remained so simple while trust had become so difficult.
“Would you sit?” she asked.
He sat on the other end of the bench. They listened to rain without touching.
For that evening, it was enough.
* * *
At nine, the clerk returned with Hale’s response.
The living witness claim had been rejected for lack of durable proof. The transfer would proceed at midnight. Foundation personnel were instructed to remain at their posts.
Thorne swore softly.
The King read the order twice. “He wants Evelyn moved before an external team can reach her.”
Alessandro opened the old building plans.
“There is a physical access stair. It was sealed when the lower ward was partitioned. We can reach the holding structure without using the witness line.”
“Can you open it?” Voss asked.
“Yes. The stair. The final exit gate requires a controlled balance of living magic.”
Everyone looked toward the twins.
Their father spoke first.
“No one asks them in a room full of people waiting for the answer.”
He stood and took the clerk outside. Thorne followed. Voss gave Aurelia a long look, then withdrew with the others.
Only their grandparents remained.
Azalea reached for her sister’s hand.
“Are we actually being given a choice?” she whispered.
Isadora’s eyes shone.
“Yes.”