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[staysail]

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[staysail]

[That promise, genuinely given, does pull at something in Darras' chest. He's still too angry to be grateful, snapped tight like bad rigging.]

She wouldn't thank you for it. [But.] I would.

If it is them-- She's always known they don't care. About her. If she chose Riftwatch over them, she'd be better for it.

[He careens from there to the next thought, the grim possibility--] If Riftwatch is what got her into this, I'll be done.

[cozen]

[ At another time, he could argue: Yseult is Riftwatch, as much as anyone is, so she would have gotten herself into it. And if it's Corypheus and his forces, staying might be the clearest path to making someone pay.

But at this time, arguing would be so stupid that it doesn't even occur to him to try. ]

I hope it isn't. But—we will find her. And then we will know. Or you will know, [ he adds, humor without cheer, ] and the rest of us will wonder and never be told.

[staysail]

[He doesn't laugh. But it wasn't intended to make him laugh. Somewhere, though, Darras' shoulders shift, and drop a little.]

If it were you, what would you want done?

[cozen]

In your shoes, or hers?

[staysail]

Hers.

[cozen]

[ It's a hard question, when he doesn't know where her shoes are. He can imagine himself in danger somewhere, afraid that no one is coming. He can also imagine himself not in danger at all, on the verge of pulling off something magnificent, annoyed that anyone pried into his business instead of trusting him to be fine.

(If it had been as long already, for this conversation, as it will be before Yseult and Flint return, that second scenario would feel much less likely.) ]

I would... I don't know. I think I would be glad to think that someone was looking. But my employers were temporary, you know. It wasn't the same.