This unspooling of misery carries them down another flight of stairs, along a narrow side-street. Shutters are opening above them. The sound of seagulls and the lapping of the tide beckon them forward. Wysteria's hand is warm, the link of her arm anchors him here, and Ellis is very aware of them both.

"I should apologize," he says, once he has is certain the flow of her answer has reached a natural conclusion. "I am glad that I didn't miss our dance."

Something easier to say now that he's returned. It would have been to difficult to admit from his perch on the very heights of Weisshaupt towers.