He would not leave her again.
He sat down beside Kinlear, and the two muttered quiet conversation with one another.
Curt, short phrases, stiffness in their voices.
How is Father doing?
Fine.
How is Mother?
An angry huff from Kinlear.
Hell if I know,you’rethe one she fawns over like a newborn babe.
And then it fell silent. Like they couldn’t be trusted to speak another word without fighting, the tension between them so palpable.
Whatever history was between them had scarred deep.
Ezer didn’t know what time it was, but eventually her legs grew numb, so she stood slowly again, expecting the beast to attack.
It watched her with unblinking, dark eyes, in the way that only birds could. As if she were merely a strange little mouse visiting its cage.
At some point, she began to pace, watching the way the raphon’seyes trailed her. But it never lifted its beak from the shavings, never moved to spring itself upon her.
When she grew hungry enough, she sat back down and ate from her dish of food.
The raphon’s nostrils flared at the smell, but when she tossed a piece of meat before it, it did not even flinch.
Not hungry,she told herself.
‘What do you feed it?’ Ezer asked as she cut into the meat. Arawn had brought her a fancy cut of steak, delicious and fragrant. A scent a predator should have adored.
But still the raphon did not move.
‘Grains and meat, like the war eagles,’ Kinlear said.
‘And does he eat it all?’ Ezer asked.
‘She,’ Kinlear said.
So, the raphon was a female.
For some reason, that surprised her.
‘And no,’ Kinlear said. ‘She does not.’
‘Does she have a name?’
He chuckled at that. ‘Call her Six,’ he said.
‘A number is not a name,’ Ezer said.
He shrugged. ‘And a raphon is not a pet.’
‘It is, if you’re to make me tame her.’ Ezer sighed and took another bite of meat, her head leaning against the bars.
‘Two minutes,’ Kinlear said. ‘That’s how long the last person to enter her cell survived.’ And then he smiled. ‘You’ve been in there for five hours.’
