I watch him eat and then retreat to a leafy corner of the tank. Only then, I notice a little box next to the terrarium that has a bottle of water and a tube of granules with a note stuck to it. I pick it up. It’s written in English. Painstaking block letters spell out MIX IN WAFER. It’s Elvis’s extra nectar. Harl went to the trouble of translating the instructions, even though he didn’t get the letters for “water” quite right.
“Sweet of him,” I murmur to myself.
“It stinks in here,” Lyro says sharply from behind me. I glance back at him and see him in bed already, making a face. “Ofhim. He stayed longer than necessary.”
“He was probably just making sure Elvis was okay.”
Lyro’s nostrils flare, and his mouth flattens. “He wants you for himself.”
“At least someone does, right?” I joke.
“He asked for you today, at the hatchery. He begged for me to leave you behind, so he can take care of you.” He toys idly with a tuft of fur on the bed, avoiding my eyes.
An uncomfortable silence settles between us as I ponder this new information. I don’t like it, I decide. I’m sure Harl was just being protective, but the idea of them bickering over me like kids over a toy doesn’t sit right.
Part of me wants to know who won the argument, though. “What did you say to him?”
He looks up at that, expression blank. “Nothing.”
A laugh bursts out before I can stop it. “Of course. I should have guessed.”
Chapter 8
Lyro
When Lena turns down the lights, I brace for her to lie down next to me again, ready to reject her. But she doesn’t. She spreads out the ratty old fur on the floor, yawning as she curls up on it and covers herself in the equally ratty old jacket.
Why haven’t they given her proper clothing and blankets? She’s been here forweeks.
I’m not going to ask. It doesn’t matter. If I really cared, I could give her some of mine. Obviously, I don’t care, or I would have.
Anyway, if she were cold, she could say something. Any rational person would. But it’s not like I’ve shown any inclination to help her, so perhaps she’d tell someone else. Someone she doesn’t hate. Someone like Harl.
This bed frixingreeksof him. He didn’t realize he was rolling inmyfurs, not hers. I’m half tempted to join her on the floor just to get away from it. Maybe she’s asleep and won’t notice if I move down there beside her, if I’m careful to rise before she does.
Lena speaks in the dark, startling me. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t know how to answer honestly, so I stick with the easy lie. “Fine.”
“I heard you tossing and turning. Thought maybe something was on your mind.”
Exhaustion loosens my tongue. “Do you hate me?”
She should. I hatemyselffor asking such a puerile, needy question. Frix, if I could take back the words, I would. I brace myself for her laughter, but it doesn’t come.
“No. I don’t.”
“Why not? I’ve been nothing but cruel to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it is. I’ve insulted and rejected you at every opportunity. I tried to assassinate your beloved bug. You’re sleeping on the floor in your own room,” I point out.
“You fed me.”
“You must have been very hungry if that made up for everything else.”
She sighs heavily. “Lyro, I’m not mad at you for needing time to accept this crazy situation we’ve been thrust into. Any normal person would.”
