“It appears,” a deep voice said, “a little mouse has made its way into my home.”

He always wanted more than I could or wanted to give him. It is, after all, a waste to love a thing that will soon be gone.

“Nothing,” I said, even though my sister knew me well enough to know when nothing meant everything.

“If I didn’t do dangerous things,” I added, “I would do nothing.”

I collected facts the way other people collected jewels, and Vale’s home was overflowing with them—both facts and jewels.

That hand still rested there, right on my thigh. Was he waiting for me to say something? Had I missed a cue that I should know? I did that often. I looked down at that hand. “What—” “May I write to you?” he asked. My mouth closed. I blinked at him. “May I write?” He sounded vaguely irritated, and I wasn’t sure why. “Yes,” I said, at last. “Of

“What is your name?” he said. “In case I need to verify your credentials.” “Lilith.” “Lilith…?” “Just Lilith. You gave me one name, so that’s what I’ll give you, too.”

“Time, Vale,” I said. “Time is the most valuable resource of all, and some of us are perpetually short.”

“Does nothing bother you?” he said. “You seem totally unmoved that you almost died.” I didn’t tell him that I was always almost dying.