As Lyra spoke, a memory surfaced in Rosario: the first day of anatomy lab, a couple months ago. She'd just ditched Archer at the cafe, made it to class far too early, found herself an empty table and buried her head in her textbook. The scrape of the chair beside her had pulled her out of it, and she'd looked up and into Archer's grinning face. She'd asked him, with a sharp edge of accusation, if he was following her, and he'd said—
You followed me first.
Fuck. Fuck! And he kept pushing her for an interview for the stupid article she wasn't writing. And being all annoyingly solicitous in class, and sending her prep notes and— did he know?
Her stomach was squirming as Elaine leaned across the table to top up their mugs. She was speaking as she did so, turning over ideas on who they could speak to, who might know more, and there was that word again, three syllables that made Rosario's insides clench tight.
"That— that, yeah," Rosario nodded, stumbling over her own tongue. "That would be helpful, to talk to—" A demigod. "I, I mean—"