She trudged along behind him, each step feeling like her shoes were filled with lead. She hadn't thought that Alexander would be killed. She hadn't thought of anything, really, except for how much she wanted to be free. Free from this place, free from expectations, free from feeling trapped and having nowhere to turn to. It certainly hadn't occurred to her that she was putting anyone in danger. And the matter-of-fact way he said it made her feel small and ashamed she had not thought of it. She drew her cloak tighter around herself as they entered the house - less for warmth and more for the comfort of it. She felt a bit ill, having to enter this place again. It was not a home, but a place that was going to leech the life out of her until she was nothing but a shallow husk.

Still, as he led the way past where they usually parted, right to the door of her own room, Calliope couldn't help but feel like he was treating her as a child once again. Or, perhaps not like a child, but like a prisoner. She looked at him, then looked at the door. She couldn't help the small sob that escaped her as she went inside. "Are you going to lock me in my rooms now?" She asked, her voice emotionless of even the ice it had held earlier. Calliope felt she probably deserved it. She had put him in danger unintentionally. There was something about her voice, her whole way of handling herself that seemed off. Almost... broken. As if she had resigned herself to such a thing as not being allowed out of her rooms; as if she had finally given up.