Liam had just started toward the inner road when Sheila's voice reached him.
"Liam."
He stopped and looked back.
Sheila was crossing the courtyard toward him, moving with the controlled quiet of someone who had spent the entire day being watched and had finally found a moment where she did not need to project quite as hard. Her white hair was tied back more practically than usual, though loose strands had escaped around her face.
Her field uniform was marked with dirt, dried blood that was not all hers, and faint traces of healing light still fading around her fingers. She looked tired, but not broken. The commander mask had not vanished. It had only lowered enough for the girl beneath it to breathe.
"You are still walking around," Liam said.
"So are you."
"I am avoiding sleep."
"I am checking that patrols are actually moving, restricted areas are being respected, and no one is doing anything deeply foolish now that the day's formal work has slowed."
