“I’ve loved you two,” she said. “Not well. Not even wholesomely. I don’thave it in me. But I’ve loved you—in a better world I’d be able to say, ‘Likeyou were my own,’ but I don’t know what that would even mean anymore.You’ve been my agents ... you’ve been stand-ins for something I haven’t hadfor longer than either of you can understand. Which is why I’m saying—don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”
Pyrrha tugged her wrist free of Palamedes’s hand. She reached down, andtilted Camilla’s chin up, and looked at her for the longest time. Then sheleant down—she kissed her brusquely and briefly on the forehead—and,startlingly and even more briefly, on the mouth. Nona, who even then couldnever ditch the lessons of the hand and the mouth, watched that kiss and feltvery sad. It was like watching Pyrrha stealing something she didn’t want totake—reaching out for the juicy, cherry-red part of the oven, even when sheknew that all it could give her was a burn. And Nona saw Camilla, with hercold, navy blue mouth, and could tell that Camilla understood.Camilla said, “Could you try not to be such a chicken hawk, Pyrrha?”
Pyrrha reached out, ruffled the perfect hair of the body of Ianthe Naberius,and leant in to briefly kiss Palamedes too—Palamedes said, tolerant andamused, “You are an appalling old roué, Dve,”—and Pyrrha said, “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, see you around.”