Her name was Prya.
Hael came back at midnight with this information and the particular expression of someone who had spent an evening doing something that mattered and hadn't found it comfortable and hadn't expected to.
He sat at the kitchen table — the same table where Nara had sat at four in the morning watching her display, where Kael's mother made tea for everyone who arrived at difficult hours, where the oversight board spread its documentation and the retroactive review accumulated its weight. The table had become the center of something without anyone deciding it should.
Kael's mother set tea in front of Hael without being asked.
He wrapped his hands around the cup.
