"How many?"
"Four."
His fingers tightened around the edge of Spiro's map. "Are they alive?"
"Yes."
A breath left him. He looked down. "Good." The word carried more than relief. It carried guilt that hadn't yet found its full shape.
Unpleasant. Useful, perhaps. But unpleasant.
"You aren't responsible for what adults did when you were seven," I said.
He looked at me. "Neither were they."
"No."
The Empress closed her eyes briefly. I continued, "Guilt is only useful if it becomes action. Otherwise it's just self-indulgence wearing mourning clothes."
Adrien stared at me, then gave a faint laugh. "You have a talent for making comfort sound like an insult."
"It's a gift."
The physician muttered something under his breath. I ignored him.
"The rehearsal is the next target," I said.
His expression sharpened. "The coronation rehearsal?"
"Yes."
"Then cancel it."
"No."
The Empress looked at me. Adrien frowned. "No?"
