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Moonlight poured in, filtered by blinds. The first time they shared a bed since Anakt; the last time they shared a bed.
“It’ll work,” said Sua. They were already one, after all.
Mizi nodded. “If you lived again, would you want to be born earlier? So you’re free?”
Sua thought. “Only if you were, too.”
“It’ll work,” Mizi lied, or hoped.
———
For the duration of their song, Mizi stared at Sua, waiting for a splattered red streak. As consequence, when it appeared, she couldn’t accept that it wasn’t her imagination.
———
Mizi slept. The night was clouded. There was no moonlight.