He kept saying that, but the weeks kept on going by. Perhaps they weren't in Baedal forever, but Cassandra had spent over a year in Rowan. And in over a year, she had developed a life for herself, in spite of herself. It was impossible, she had learned, for a worldwalker to remain isolated. Not surrounded by nightmares and political intrigue and others just like her, some desperate to return home. But maybe the rules didn't apply to Apollo. He was an immortal and had made, as far as she could tell, no friends in Willaknapp. Perhaps he could do just fine on his own.

Cassandra, in spite of herself and the way she was presented to the world, needed people.

"You might be able to afford something bigger with a room mate," she said absently, knowing full well that he wouldn't listen to her. "And if there's another attack, perhaps you'd have someone to protect you."

Or someone to protect, which, in Cassandra's opinion, would remarkably improve Apollo's compassion. But she wasn't about to say that one out loud.