It was the solid grip of someone who had already made up her mind.
"Let's go home," Heena said.
Her voice was slightly hoarse from exhaustion, but it carried clearly enough for him to hear.
Sol's fingers tightened around hers.
Home.
The word struck him harder than he had expected.
He had lived in many rooms, but none of them had ever truly belonged to him. The places he had stayed in had always been temporary, and the people who provided him with shelter had never done so without expecting something in return.
Even the Crimson Pearl Pavilion, where he had spent so much of his life, had never been a home.
It was a place where he was kept.
A place where his fate depended on someone else's mood.
But now...
He looked at the hand holding his.
Sol nodded.
He couldn't find his voice, so he simply allowed Heena to guide him towards the decorated sedan chair waiting nearby.
***
The sedan chair had been completely transformed according to Heena's instructions.
