Dahlia didn’t hesitate. “[color=skyblue]Of course,[/color]” she said, nodding into Quinn’s shoulder. “[color=skyblue]I’ll stay right here all night. And tomorrow, I’ll walk with you all the way to the Savior.[/color]” 

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. She [i]would[/i] stay with Quinn, she’d stay with her as long as she could, as close to the start of the duel as possible. 

Then she was taking the elevator up to the Aerie, and she was getting into [i]Dragon[/i]. 

She couldn’t tell that to Quinn, though. She couldn’t tell it to anyone, not even Besca. Getting up there would an ordeal all on its own, as would talking her way into the cockpit. But she was determined now, and more with every passing second, that she was not going to let Roaki kill Quinn. She was not going to lose her sister. 

“[color=skyblue]You didn’t ruin anything,[/color]” she said. “[color=skyblue]Someone was awful to you—that’s not your fault. It isn’t. Everything she said to you, you just ignore it. Ignore it, because it was all nonsense. None of that is gonna happen—not to me, not to you.[/color]

“[color=skyblue]I won’t let it.[/color]”

[hr][hr]
Sleep came much more quickly to Quinn than she might have expected, as if it had been waiting for her. As soon as she shut her eye, it came for her, wrapped her in its gentle embrace, and then she [color=black]sank.[/color]

The boat was still. 

When Quinn opened her eye, the sky was dark, and this time the lake reflected the moon and not the sun. Its image was imperfect—a crescent where the one above was full—but a step closer to real than before. The water, however, was still pitch black. 

Distantly, on the forested shore, she could see the umbral form of her Savior sat down, with its legs mostly submerged in the water. Beside it, the white, skull-faced deer lay resting. 

“[color=black]How dare she,[/color]” said [color=black]Quinnlash[/color], standing on the edge of the boat, peering angrily out at the water. There were no familiar shadows around. Tonight, it was just the two of them. “[color=black]How dare she threaten us? Threaten our friends? A [i]taker[/i], [/color]Quinn,[color=black] that’s what she is. A mangy dog, and a taker.[/color]

[color=black]Quinnlash[/color] turned to her. For the briefest instant her hair seemed brighter, almost as white as the deer’s fur, but it must have been a trick of the moonlight, because in that same moment it was oaken again. She stared hard at Quinn, incensed—not at [i]her[/i], but incensed nonetheless. 

“[color=black]She doesn’t get to hurt us. She doesn’t get to [i]kill[/i] us. And she does [i]not[/i] get to say awful things about our family. Our [i]real[/i] family,[/color]” she spat. Her eyes softened, barely, and just for a moment. Then they were sharp as knives again. “[color=black][i]She[/i] dies tomorrow, not us.[/color]”