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The thoughts ran an endless circuit in her head, searching for something she could have done differently, and despite knowing she couldn’t change what happened the thoughts refused to slow.

But then Amalia spoke again. “My name is Zephyr,” she said, and the words suddenly grounded Penance. “Zephyr Alexis Navine.”

It all but knocked the air out of her. This secret, sacred information given to her as casually as if it were a weather report: a strong west wind with thunder on the horizon. It was headed straight for her and all she could do was smile and welcome it. She always did appreciate a good storm.

“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said, but she could barely hear her own voice nor Amalia’s—Zephyr’s—response over the thunder in her chest. She expected the downpour any moment.

“I think I’m going to have a lie down,” she said faintly. “Would you come up with me? Just for a bit.”

Amalia sighed and surveyed the courtyard. The injured’s wounds were being attentively treated and the rest of the Touched milled about comforting one another. “I suppose shattering their perception of the world can wait until supper.”

Penance’s heart jumped as Amalia squeezed her hand, then let go to start toward the house. It was so easy to forget when they held hands sometimes; they fit so perfectly into one another that it simply felt like the natural state of things, and when they weren’t touching, there was nothing but empty space longing to be filled.

It wasn’t long, at least, before it was filled again. They crawled onto separate sides of the bed, wearily sinking into the mattress and blindly grabbing for each other. Penance took Amalia’s hand in her own and held it close to press a long kiss to the rough knuckles even as Amalia slid her arm beneath Penance’s neck to stroke her hair. Everything will be all right, Penance thought. Everything would be okay as long as she was there with her dearest friend. She gently released Amalia’s hand to wipe a bit of dirt off of her cheek with her thumb.

“I should have gone with you,” Amalia murmured. “I’m sorry, Penance. I shouldn’t have left you alone. If anything had happened to you—”

Her heart pounded again. The thunder was becoming stronger, more frequent, and she could only hope Amalia felt it too.

“You didn’t leave me alone,” Penance said. “You sent Su, and she may well have saved my life.

“Still.”

Penance frowned and shifted to hold Amalia’s face in her hand. There was a depth to her eyes that Penance knew must have come from years and years of things she knew of but couldn’t comprehend, and it must be so lonely. She got lost staring into those eyes for a moment before she remembered what she was going to say.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things beyond your control,” she said. “It’s not your fault the Galanthi didn’t want to cooperate. You were trying to help us, all of us, and that’s the most noble thing anyone could do. Don’t you think?”

Amalia snorted, but her furrowed brow gave way to small smile. “I think you give me too much credit.”

“No.” Penance shook her head. “No, you don’t give yourself enough credit is the thing. You could have woke up here and done whatever you wanted. Spent your days drinking away and sleeping with strange men until God takes you.”

“Well, I’m not not doing that.”

“But you didn’t,” Penance carried on. “You took your mission and committed to it. For us. For our girls. And you keep trying every day despite the setbacks. You’re so much better than you know, True.” She paused. “Navine. Zephyr. What should I call you?”

“Whatever you like,” Amalia said quietly.

Penance wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but their faces were suddenly close enough on the pillow that she could feel Amalia’s breath move the loose curls of her hair. Another bout of thunder rolled through, and this time it didn’t leave. It powered through her and overwhelmed her and she didn’t feel in control of her body when she leaned in to place a short, chaste kiss to Amalia’s lips.

She pulled back, her cheeks flushed, and the thunder swelled until she thought she might faint. It filled her heart and her lungs and she felt she would never breathe again until she felt Amalia return her blind affection, lips warm and chapped and so much gentler than she’d imagined.

Penance’s heart raced like a rabbit’s when they parted. There were so many reasons this was wrong. Not the part where Amalia was a woman—she’d mentioned this sort of thing would be inconsequential in the future—but the part where nothing in the world was more precious than Amalia’s friendship, and who was she to challenge that? To be so greedy as to want more? Not to mention Amalia’s relations with Horatio, which was an entirely different level of wrong that Amalia had ignored for years despite Penance’s pleading for her to stop lying with a married man.

She should have known Amalia wouldn’t care about the wrongness of this, either. And she couldn’t even bring herself to care as her companion propped herself up on her elbow and used her free hand to smooth Penance’s frizzy curls away from her face.

“Are you sure?” Amalia said, her eyes boring into Penance’s as if this were the most important question she’d ever ask. It was are you sure you want to go there, it was are you sure I’m worth it, it was are you sure this isn’t a mistake. It was a million questions and variations of questions that would overwhelm most people in searching for the answer, but Penance had never been more certain of anything in her life.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I love you. I love you so much, you don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Amalia said. “I don’t. It makes no sense for someone like you to love someone like me, but—”

“Like what?”

Amalia paused. “What?”

“What am I like, and what are you like, and why doesn’t it make sense?” Penance demanded.

“I’m a fuckup,” Amalia said matter-of-factly. “And you’re...well, you’re perfect. A saint, really. An angel.”

“I’m not perfect,” Penance murmured. “And neither are you a fuckup. We’re just two people doing our best, same as anyone else.”

Amalia took a deep breath. “Your optimism is insane,” she said. “You should want to be with someone like Mr. Bidlow.”

“But I don’t,” Penance said. And just as quick as it came, the storm in her passed, leaving only the calm and constant ache she’d grown accustomed to when she was with Amalia. It was an ache she knew would never go away, whether or not her heart got what it wanted. It was love, real and true love, something much stronger than what she felt for her inventions, or for Augie Bidlow, or even for their girls. It was how she knew better than she ever did that God was real and that He had sent Amalia not only to salvage the future but to nestle her into Penance’s chest and make a home for her there.

Amalia stared at her for a long moment, then kissed her again. Desperately this time, but still gentle, always gentle with her Penance. She thought she felt some wetness on Amalia’s cheek, but she thought better than to mention it.

They broke apart, and Penance was sure Amalia wanted to go further, but instead the other woman simply held Penance to her chest and placed a long, firm kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, too,” she said so quietly that Penance thought she might have imagined it. But it was enough. It was all she wanted. And it would have to end when they broke the news to the rest of the orphanage and prepared to take up arms again, but for now she could stay in her perfect world with her love, and it was enough.