Rosario's still staring at Corvus when Lyra speaks. She squints till her vision grows fuzzy, willing herself to see the crow hidden in the black spaces between the four diamond-points of light, but when she blinks her eyes clear there's still no bird, only stars.
Lyra says she can feel something, though.
Used to be Rosario didn't believe in nebulous feelings anymore than she believed in saints or gods or faeries. Used to be (she'd thought) the world was a rational place where uncanny coincidences and sudden chills could all be explained by quirks of the brain. The Rosario of last year would've told Lyra, But you haven't seen anything. And you said yourself, you been poking at all these memories, it's all top of mind. So maybe it's more about that.
But it was a feeling that led Rosario to a dead goddess in October, and it was a feeling that warned her about Lyra's disaster bender in March, and it's a feeling now that's telling her there's another shoe yet to drop, and if Lyra's felt something too—
(The Crow's still drowning. That's what she saw on the boat, same as she saw it on Saint Patrick's Day right before Lyra landed in hospital. That means it can't be over, Merlin said, which means Lyra's still in danger, and there's nothing more dangerous that faeries who can rip a person out of space and time.)
"I don't know," she says, with a stirring of apprehension. "I wouldn't risk it, though."