“By imagining them made from something strong. Something durable that cannot break easily,” I say, remembering what she already told me.
“Exactly. Now, tell me, what are your walls built of?”
Bricks? Iron?
“Either will work,”she says.
Okay, bricks, then.
“So step three…”I probe, and I swear I can feel her eyes roll. I smile.
“You build them.” Her voice has no humor, and for some reason, her frustration makes me smile more.
Closing my eyes, I grip the towel in my hands tighter as I try to visualize stacking large stones around a glowing core—around mymind—sealing it off from anyone who might try to peer inside.
My temples ache painfully, and my eyes snap open.
“We’ll try again later.”Her words are soft.“You’ll get it soon.”
“Sure I will.”
I wrap the towel around my body and step out of the bathroom, but my feet halt—refusing to carry me any farther—as a feeling I’mall too familiar with surges through me, coiling hot and sharp in my chest.
Rage.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I clutch my towel tighter, and Theo’s eyes leave the book he’s holding to meet mine.
He removes his feet from the top of the desk but continues to lean back in the chair.His clothes are far too formal for our current setting, and I can’t help but wonder where he was before this.
He wears an embroidered tunic with gemstone buttons, cinched at the waist with a deep blue belt. Leather pants hug his legs, and a dagger rests against his hip, though the weapon looks more ornamental than practical.
“To be fair, I did knock. You just didn’t hear me,” he says, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
“That’s not how knocking works.” I move to the dresser to grab something to throw on. “Leave,” I demand, but of course, he doesn’t move.
“And to think,” he says slowly, tilting his head, “this is the gratitude I get for checking to make sure my cousin didn’t toss you out on your ass after your little stunt the other day.” He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment.
“How very honorable of you,” I retort, pulling out a knee-length floral dress and holding it against myself like a shield. “But as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, and you can be on your way.”
I walk back toward the bathroom.
“But what if I told you…I brought you a present?”
I freeze.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I turn my head ever so slightly to look at him. He’s holding up a soft blue leather journal. It’s thick, full of untouched pages.
Damn it.
I want it.
“I noticed you’re quite fond of taking notes.” His eyes flick toward the pile of loose papers on the desk, the same ones that had been scattered across the floor the last time he invaded my space. “I thought maybe this would help you keep your thoughts a bit more…organized.”
“Why?” I demand, resisting the urge to snatch the notebook from his hand.
It reminds me of the ones I keep at home, the ones that Telfi used to write in, and my heart aches.
“I just told you,” he says plainly, setting the journal down on the desk.
