She misses him. They both do.

What’s that supposed to mean?

They’ll figure this out.

Bullshit.

She’s toying with a flame in the palm of her hand, eyes glazed over in thought.

The flame is swallowed in her palm as her fingers, like the petals of a bloom, close. She remains silent but her gaze affixes on him; eyes sharp, brow raised.

She stares for a long moment, eyes regarding him. The Prophet of Flame was allowing him to continue. Then she speaks, “He was.”

“That is not your domain.” The Ninth is Lucifer’s furthest circle. It would not be easy to get there. Only a select few sinners see the snow.

“And your price?”

“That’s it? Our loyalty?”

“You’ll have mine. I cannot speak for Lucien, but I will talk with him.” She pauses. “When will you bring Dante back?”

“Alright. How do I get a hold of you, when I’ve found out his decision?”

“You don’t just... have a cell phone?”

“Extra.” She comments dismissively. “Fine. I’ll talk to a shadow. Anything else you need?” Ro considers her tone. “Majesty?”

“I might have a way to save Dante, 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜.”

A hunger burns inside her. She nods. “Done.”

A lighter flicks in her hand. Round eyes look up at the Empire State.