Kitten doesn't object at all to being picked up. Thomas is a friend, and he's upset. She settles into the crook of his arm as if she belongs there, one paw gripping his shirt to steady herself, and watches him with wide, worried eyes.

A ghost? Daine frowns, not because she doesn't believe him, but because it just seems wrong. She's learned a little about ghosts since she got here, and hasn't liked any of it. The dead ought to be in the Black God's realm; anything else feels perverse and backwards. If you'd asked her yesterday, she would've said she felt sorry for ghosts, with nowhere to go and no one to look after them.

But she didn't think a ghost could kill someone. And she doesn't know how to capture or punish someone who's already dead.

Maybe she can ask Professor Lyall about it later. For now, the only thing she might be able to do is help Thomas. He looks miserable; the only bright spot about him is Kitten, and even the blue of her scales has gone dim with the news. Daine takes a slow breath, gently pushing aside her anger and frustration. Storming off to the Bramford won't help, no matter how much she wants to. Instead, she walks over to Thomas and lays a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.