"I'm going to sleep." She softened the rejection with a hand on his arm. "We'll talk later. When my brain's working again."
Tony nodded and ducked into the shower room. The moment the door closed, Esag reappeared, as if he'd been waiting just out of sight.
He looked at her with admiration as if she had changed into an evening gown and styled her hair, which was absurd. She hadn'teven combed it after the shower because she didn't have a comb, and it was a tangled mess.
Esag shook himself as if to break the spell and held out a plastic bag. "For your wet things."
"Oh. Thanks." She handed him the wetsuit and put her clothing inside the bag.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Or do you just want to sleep?" He sounded friendly, like someone who was there to help, and not like the guy who had destroyed her family. "I can show you where the bunks are, or I can take you to the mess hall first."
Her stomach chose that moment to growl, loud enough that they both heard it. She pressed a hand to her belly, remembering suddenly that she wasn't just feeding herself anymore.
"I should eat," she said. "I have..." She paused, unsure why she was about to tell Esag about her baby. "I'm pregnant. I need to eat."
"I know," he said.
She wondered whether he'd been told or if he had seen her rounded belly in the dreams they had shared for some strange reason.
Except, she wasn't sure she'd actually interacted with him or if they had just been strange dreams.
"The mess hall's this way." He pointed.
She'd imagined a tiny room, something a little larger than the showers, but when they reached the mess hall, she was surprised to see that it was fairly large for a submarine, with several tables bolted to the floor and bench seating on either side of them.
"Sit," Esag said. "The crew doesn't have a cook, but there are plenty of frozen meals, MREs, that sort of thing." He motioned to the small kitchen area.
She sat, her body sagging. The bench was hard, uncomfortable, but it wasn't moving, and it didn't require her to do anything.
Esag busied himself with heating something, and the domestic normality of it was surreal given their circumstances. Here was the man who'd broken Gulan's heart, who'd driven her to run away and abandon her princess and her family, making Tula food like they were old friends catching up.
The old anger tried to surface again, but exhaustion smothered it.
Later.
She'd deal with all of that later.
"Here." He set a plastic tray in front of her—some kind of pasta in red sauce, a side of sad green beans, and a roll that could probably double as a weapon. He added a box of apple juice. "It's not gourmet, but it's calories and nutrients."
"It's fine. Thank you."
He sat across from her, and the awkwardness between them became unbearable. Tula focused on eating, mechanically forking the pasta and beans into her mouth. It tasted like cardboard soaked in tomato-flavored water, but her body needed fuel, and more importantly, her baby needed nutrition.
"How are Areana and Navuh doing?" she asked finally, because the silence was worse than conversation.
"Navuh's in bad shape. Multiple fractures, possible brain damage. Our doctor is doing what he can, but..." He shrugged. "It's touch and go."
"Areana must be frantic."
He nodded. "She's an emotional wreck. She won't leave his side, won't eat, and she barely accepted dry clothes." He paused. "It's rare to see such devotion. Such love."
"Truelove mates," Tula said. "It's nice to have that certainty, but it comes with a steep cost. No matter how monstrous a mate becomes, the bond holds."
Esag's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, five thousand years of unspoken history filling the space. She could feel questions hovering—his or hers, she wasn't sure—but her exhaustion kept hers unvoiced. She simply didn't have the energy for that conversation right now.
The mess hall door opened, and Tony entered, hair still damp from his shower, wearing ill-fitting clothes similar to hers.
