"It is rarely wise to default to looking for approval in another's words, Warden," says Harrow with a roll of her eyes when he grins at her, but she can't make it sound quite as chiding as it ought. For as unbelievable as the plan had been, as monumentally foolish, as doomed to fail as it might have been in the hands of another--it had worked. Neither of them could forget that.

Palamedes accepts the next part of her tale with as much bemused enthusiasm as Harrow might have expected, an echo of the frantic relief she'd seen in the River flickering in his face when he speaks again. It's an added burden to her load of guilt, even though they've been down part of this road before: she and Camilla should never have been separated, and even if they had, Harrow should have retained enough of her faculties to find the cavalier of the Sixth again. Her desperation had nearly destroyed everything, everyone, a failure she thought until only a few days ago she was beginning to finally put right. It's a moment before she can answer him.

"It should have been sooner."