"Six weeks," echoes Harrow, half in astonishment and half a little ruefully; it's difficult not to think of that as placing her at a disadvantage, even with the peek at his notes he promises. "And if the connection is strong enough to be evident and yet so tenuous it's of null importance...another paradox." She sees him grin, the lines of his face shifting from awkward to striking in an instant, and recalls the way he'd looked at their last improbable reunion. "You have a deal, Sextus."

His focus returns to Gideon, to the matter at hand, and Harrow can't help feeling as though there's a constriction there, the closing of another trap she hadn't known she'd sprung. "I can stand unaided," she says, the acid in her tone more for herself than either of them, a last protest against a concession she already knows she's making. With what dignity she can muster, she maneuvers herself out of the couch and up, wobbling only slightly as she finds her feet.