Arya's arms hook beneath her thighs, and he lifts her from the glass—her back sliding against the cold surface for one last second before he carries her across the suite. Aru's head lolls against his shoulder, the phone still clutched in her trembling fingers, her mother's voice a distant tinny shriek through the speaker. He deposits her on the edge of the mattress, her legs dangling over the side, calves hanging uselessly. The gold chains around her neck catch the lamplight as her chest heaves.

He drops to his knees.