Darlington smiles a little at the sudden surprise on Palamedes' face; he hadn't meant the question to startle, but neither is it a complete mystery why it had. "She is," he says. "Back in New Haven, we'd only just started to become friends, but that developed into more here." He can see how it might have there, too, if whatever occurred that night in Rosenfeld hadn't happened the way it did--or the way it would, a distinction he still finds strange to consider. Before he can sink too far into thought, he pulls himself back to the matters at hand.

"It's understandably not something she shares with most people," he says, "but Alex sees ghosts. And has for...as long as she can remember. They've always been there for her, whether she wanted it or not. It's why Lethe was so interested in bringing her in as a delegate." He looks up at the house, at its looming tower of crumbling stone and the wide bank of windows that marks out the nearest wall of the ballroom. "We warded the house against them, along with a few other places around the city, so she'd have some quieter places to go."