There’s nothing I can say in response, not really. “You should get some sleep. It’s late.”
He doesn’t move. “I’ll stay a while longer.”
Chapter eleven
Selene
I’ve feigned sleep so many times that I am a master of it.
My chest rises and falls in soft movement, my lips parted, as I watch Callan move around the room through tiny slits in my lids. His steps are light, quiet enough that they wouldn’t wake me if I had truly slept.
We spent the night locked in silent battle. Watching each other and pretending not to. Callan did not move from his chair beside the bed once he eventually came back, having swept up the spilled grain before settling in and propping his boots on top of yet another box.
He did not sleep, either.
The room is still dark enough to be wreathed in shadow as he slips through the door and pulls it closed, only a glimmer of light appearing through the window as dawn breaks.
As the door clicks shut, I slip out from beneath the thick, feathered cover. Cool morning air swirls around my legs as Imake my way to the bathing room, my nails already digging into my arm.
There’s barely a dribble of water left in the jug, but I run it over my skin anyway, rubbing it in until it vanishes.
There’s nothing to be done for it. Frowning, I glance in the mirror after pulling on the dress I grabbed from the Murenger. The pale blue silk is ripped, black with filth that makes my skin crawl.
But I have nothing else to wear.
As I step back out into the bedroom, I pause.
The female Caelumnai from the deck looks across at me with violet eyes from the bedroom doorway, a tray held in her hands. My eyes flick up, to the open space behind her, and her lips press together before she steps inside and uses her boot to kick the door closed. “Morning.”
Esmeray.Es-may.
There’s a delicacy to her name that doesn’t quite fit the female in front of me. She’s petite—likely wouldn’t reach my shoulder if we stood beside each other. Her face is defined, a strength to the strong lines that has me tensing as she crosses the room toward me. But there’s a softness in the spray of copper freckles that spread over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t smile as she places the tray down on the desk in front of the windows before waving a hand. “Table service.”
I stay where I am, tracking her movements as she backs away. She collapses down on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. Her head cocks. “Don’t get used to it. You’ll be eating with us after this.”
My head dips in acknowledgment as I cross to the desk.
“It’s not much,” she continues. “But we’re eating the fresh stuff before it goes to waste, so at least we get fruit for the next few days.”
The hammered metal bowl contains some sort of oats, mixed into a thick paste, and I tip the small portion of blue and black berries into it before picking up the spoon. “Thank you for bringing it.”
“Welcome.” She has her legs crossed when I turn, leaning against the desk to eat. “So. I have questions, and I’ve been told not to ask them.”
I swallow the mouthful. “Ask what you like. I’ll decide whether to answer.”
A small smile plays around her lips. “A good response.”
I take another bite of my food instead of responding. If she wants to play games, I can play them too. Boralas taught me something, at least. “Who told you not to ask?”
“Callan. Merrick. Sol. So Rio has them distracted while I brought in breakfast.” She studies me. “What happened to your wings?”
“What do you mean?” The oats turn to stodge in my mouth, sticking to the back of my throat.
She taps a finger on the coverlet. “You can answer or not. But we don’t need to waste time pretending. You have metal woven into them.”
I place the bowl back down on the desk, my words bordering on snappish. “Then why waste time asking questions you already know the answer to?”
We eye each other again.
