Atticus had asked himself the same question since he met Anorah: why did he feel drawn? Why did he follow a complete stranger to her world, risking not only himself, but his people? Now, he had the answer.
Because the woman was Anorah. Because he couldn't read her with a single glance.
Atticus could see layers upon layers of life buried within her. He couldn't see through it all. What was her goal? What was her belief? Why did she help him?
He had seen it in her eyes the moment they clashed in the gilded debt, a focus and determination that belied anything he'd ever seen before.
She had a goal, and nothing could shake her determination to reach it.
That, Atticus believed, he was drawn to.
So, as Anorah began recounting the events of the past days, the spy, her ambush, Atticus found himself listening very attentively. Somehow, he wanted to find a solution to her crisis. He wanted to help.
"So… as I said, it's been quite a couple of days." Anorah said with a shake of her head.
