Ruben finds her in the training room on a hazy, humid morning. She is alone; Lei has gone down to rouse the others so they can begin preparations for the trip to Eastwatch.

Walking to her, Ruben watches as she brings a barrage of ice down on the dummy in front of her, burying it deep before pulling her hand down and back, stripping the melted water off of it.

They have not been in the same room alone since the night on the rooftop, when he told her the rest of the Lethinor tale. This seems to hang on him—he hovers for a moment, lips pressed to the brim of his coffee cup, eyes unfocused as he stares at her handwork.

"That was a very interesting council meeting," he says eventually.

Allayria grunts her agreement, bringing a thick slab of rock down on the dummy now.

"I did not know the contents of that book."

Allayria pauses, letting the rocks tumble to the ground.

"I knew a bit," she admits. "Not the full details, but I saw the diagram the first time I stole it. I didn't want to know anything more than that. Not until I could do something about it."

"We have to look at the ugly things if we want to save the beautiful ones."

She picks up her rocks and continues to swing.

"I hope you were kind to Lei," he says after a minute.

The rocks crash to the ground again and she throws him a look over her shoulder.

"Blasted skies, Ruben," she snaps, "I am perfectly aware it's not his fault his mother is a lunatic. Give me some credit."

"You two fight a lot."

"We fight a lot because he's a self-righteous numskull who follows me around like a bloodhound." She kicks at the dust by her feet. "I'll mock his deep-rooted fears of relaxation and fun, but I won't mock him for that."

"It's different," she adds after a moment, glancing over at him.

He nods, leaning back on the nearby water basin.

"I imagine you are wondering why the son of the Imperator was appointed as your personal guard."

"The question crossed my mind," she answers, pulling out strips of cloth and wrapping them around her knuckles. "But I've seen firsthand how atrocious his acting skills are, so I'm not concerned."

He snorts, which is rather ungenerous for him, so Allayria cracks a smile.

"There are other reasons too, you know," he says after a moment. "I don't imagine Lei has told you much about his childhood, even after the meeting. He doesn't talk about it."

"Can't imagine why," she mutters, curling her hands into fists and settling back into position. The first punch hits the dummy with a satisfying thwack.

"Beinsho took him in when he was eleven, and he's been raised on the base since then," Ruben says. "I remember the first time I saw him: he was such a serious boy, withdrawn but so eager to be involved."

"Can't say he's changed," Allayria pants, alternating fists as she pummels the dummy.

"Beinsho told me the story the night before I took Lei on as a student. He had been working with Commander Sinfui of Keesark on a reconnaissance mission at the Jarles borders—this was at the beginning of the Jarles' overt actions against the other kingdoms—and their team had been hiding out in one of the sewers. Not a wonderful place to be.

"One of the soldiers had gone off to relieve himself and came back holding something small in his arms. It was a child—covered in muck and grime, limbs nothing but thin sticks, so weak from hunger and dehydration that he couldn't stand. They brought him into the camp, tried to get some food and water in him."

He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It was the medic who found all the scars. On his eleventh birthday, Abadi Chaudri's son had not Skilled metal and fire as was expected; he had Skilled water and earth. I don't know if he ever told Beinsho what she used on his back, but I think it was metal. She had him held down, you see, and when she was done she threw him into the sewers, left him, I think, to die in the wild like an animal. Instead, he crawled. Crawled through enough foulness to make it to the border, where that soldier found him."

Allayria has stopped training, her fists hanging loosely at her sides. Her parents would have never precisely won a parenting award, but neglect and inattentive lecturing are pale offenses in the face of this.

She tortured her own son? she thinks, the words not quite making sense in her brain. Her eleven year-old boy? And then she left him to die?

"I think military life gave him the routine and order he so desperately needed," Ruben says quietly. "Life became predictable, safe, and he naturally became devoted to the contained, disciplined men who gave it to him. Beinsho and many of the other officers here have protected Lei from a lot of unpleasant things over the years."

Allayria thinks back to the first physical fight she and Lei had, to how his face had blanched at the end of it.

"That's why he doesn't like metal Skilling," she says.

"Yes."

She is, she realizes with a start, angry. Angry that strangers treated him better than his mother did, angry that a parent could do this to her child. It's a futile anger, an anger with no easy solution, no nearby face to cave in, sinner skin to take metal to.

I'll do it to her, she thinks, her fingers twitching. When I get the chance I'll do to her what she did to that little boy and we'll see how well she likes it.

Ruben sets his cup down, scratching the grizzled side of his face.

"I didn't tell you this to illustrate Lei's trustworthiness; I told you this because you are taking him back to Jarles territory. Back to a place I imagine he has much more than one terrible memory of—and more than one person to fear. I'm also telling you because he won't, despite the fact that you'll make smarter decisions now that you know it."

She nods.

"I also trust that you will not bring this up with him," he adds, but his voice is gentle.

"No," she answers succinctly, and she looks out toward the doors. "I won't make him think about it anymore than he has to."

Silence lulls around them for a moment and then he says, unexpectedly: "Are you alright?"

Allayria glances up, and then around.

"What we discussed on the rooftop," he continues delicately. "Are you alright, after that?"

Oh. Allayria supposes she should have foreseen this question, should have already come up with the right words to say, but she finds she can only shrug.

"I have to be okay with it, don't I?" she asks, shouldering her bag with her arm. She's taken to carrying one around, slowly increasing the weight every day, so the eventual slog to Jarles isn't so unbearably painful.

She turns, meaning to go downstairs and find Lei, wherever the hell he is, but Ruben's voice cuts through the courtyard.

"The council is meeting about the Cabal tomorrow," he says. "They are going to decide what to do with them."

Allayria stops, but she does not look back at him.

"Good luck to them," she says and steps forward.

"Allayria."

She stops, her eyes closing for a moment as she inhales the smell of sweat and dust.

"They're going to vote to kill them."

She looks back at him now.

"What do you want me to do about that?" she asks. "Half of the council still wonders if I'm not on the Cabal's side. Half of them still think I can't be trusted. You want me to go in there and plead for mercy?"

She scoffs.

"Do you think I want mercy for them?" she continues, and her face twists. "Because I assure you they would give no mercy to me."

"You're better than—"

"Better? I don't want to be better," she nearly shouts. "What's the point in being better than that, if you end up with a knife in your back? I want to be alive, not 'better.' "

Ruben's brows knit together, his mouth twisting.

"Allayria," he repeats, and there's a plea in there, a request that she doesn't want to hear. "If it has to happen, it will happen, but don't let them make this decision rashly. Help me—"

But instead, for the second time this week, she walks out on him, letting the clanging door swallow his words and settle a wall between her and all the things he wants her to face.