Last night, after Rhonwen deposited a fluffy robe and a heaping plate of food on the small table, I sank into the bath with a delighted squeak. After scrubbing a weeks’ worth of filth and blood from my skin and hair, I wrapped myself in the robe and proceeded to devour every last morsel of fruit and flaky pastries. Then I promptly passed out on top of the humongous bed without so much as turning the comforter down. It seems I slept all night.
I push myself up, wiping a trail of drool from my cheek. Shaw never came to me last night and I wonder how his argument with Max ended. It’s the longest we’ve been apart since I set the yamardu on him and I hate to admit how I’ve grown used to his presence, sullen and brooding as it may be.
I do the quick math in my head, the same as I’ve done every morning since I crossed the Boundary. How many days Easton has left based on the Healer’s projection. It’s morbid, but its finite influence steadies me. I still have time. I haven’t failed yet. The faster we rescue Denver, the faster I can find my father and be on my way home to him.
As marooned as I feel, stuck between the need to be doing something to save my brother and Shaw’s goals, being at the manor feels wonderful. I’ve never before had the luxury of so many choices, even if they’re as small as what to eat and when. I open the door to the hallway to find a plate of baked goods and a large brown parcel. I take them inside, breathing in the succulent scent of chocolate and cream.
I eat the entire plate of pastries, sucking the sweet cream from my fingertips, before I even consider the parcel. They are so delicious that warmth blooms inside me and though I’ve only been here for a night, I know with certainty that Shaw didn’t exaggerate his stories about Nadjaa’s food.
After my appetite is sated, I tear into the parcel. It turns out to be new clothes, soft leggings and jewel-colored tunics. And at the bottom, a stunning emerald-green cloak. I drop the robe and pull on the clothes. They fit perfectly and I wonder how Rhonwen found them on such short notice.
After braiding my hair quickly down my back, I set off down the hall with the equal intent of exploring the vast manor and of finding Shaw and demanding a plan.
I dash down the stairs and almost immediately collide with Max. She looks to be dressed for some sort of training, clad in a matching set of soft pants and shirt. The dark coils of her hair have been braided and hang in thick ropes down her back. A jewel above her belly button winks next to the thick swirls of her tattoos.
I take a breath.
She stares at me appraisingly, her lush lips turned down in a frown. After a long moment, I realize I’ve been staring at her mutely and she’s waiting for me to speak. I try to move my mouth, but all I manage is a strangled, “hi.”
Max rolls her eyes impatiently. “Shaw isn’t here,” she bites out, pushing past me and continuing down the stairs.
“Where did he go?”
“I’m not his keeper.”
It shouldn’t matter that he’s stepped out, but vulnerability yawns wide in my chest. I brush it off as ridiculous. It’s not as if Max is going to turn around and attack me in the middle of the hallway just because Shaw isn’t here. At the very least, I’m sure Calloway would attempt to stop her.
I follow her down, about to ask after his whereabouts, when she says, “Cal’s also gone for the morning.”
I hesitate uncertainly behind her. Both of them are gone? What am I supposed to do while they’re out? While away the hours uselessly until one of them deems to tell me what our plan is? I’ve had enough of being useless.
As if Max senses the sudden shift in my resolve, she turns back to me abruptly, her black boots squeaking against the white marble floor. “Look, I’ve better things to do than babysit a Lemming. The boys will be back by midmorning, so make yourself scarce until then. Just stay on the property. If you get lost or hurt, I’m sure Shaw will think I did it on purpose to spite him.”
There is a small amount of care behind her words, a tenderness when she speaks of Shaw that softens me toward her. I can tell the moment Max senses it, her body stiffening warily, ready to devour any point of weakness. “I’ve done pettier things in my time, Lemming,” she says, with a grin so wicked, it’s frightening.
She spins on her heel and disappears down the corridor. The idea of being alone in the huge house with absolute freedom both terrifies and thrills me, but it’s the latter I allow to guide my feet, pushing them toward satiating my curiosity. Shaw promised me mountains of books on the way here. If he’s forgotten, I intend to get them myself.
I begin my search on the bottom floor and come up empty handed. There’s a plethora of unused rooms, most furnished much like mine—comfy and functional. A few of the doors I encounter are locked and I wonder if one of them is Shaw’s bedroom. He won’t like his privacy violated and definitely wouldn’t approve of me snooping through his home, but the idea of more words like the ones he quoted to me in the woods is too strong to ignore.
On the second floor, I come across Rhonwen turning down a set of sheets. She gestures me into the room warmly. “Come, come, Mirren. Did you sleep well? Do you have everything you need?”
Rhonwen seems the type to take my comfort level, or lack thereof, as a personal challenge so I assure her repeatedly that everything is wonderful. “Your scones this morning were so lovely,” I tell her sincerely, the memory of their warm chocolate still fresh in my mouth.
She looks befuddled before shaking her head. “You mean from last night? Well thank you, dear, but they weren’t anything special. Tonight, you’ll get to experience the best confections Nadjaa has to offer.”
The scones this morning were still steaming, but the mention ofmoreof them distracts me. “Tonight?”
“Oh yes, it’s the lunar celebration. Half the city usually turns out for it.”
Shaw described the celebration on the way here, how the moon perches itself above the mountain and reflects in the bay and Nadjaa’s citizens come to eat, dance, and mingle. I remember clearly, because he said that though the Chancellor usually officiates, attendance isn’t mandatory, and the celebration is solely for pleasure. I tried to imagine something like that in Similis, gathering not because we were told to but because wewantedto with no agenda other than enjoying our Community. The idea seemed preposterous.
“Rhonwen, do you know where I can find books? Shaw mentioned them on the way here and I would like to read one.”
The woman has moved to dusting the desk, her focus drifting from me to the work in front of her. “Oh yes, the boy has a ridiculous collection in his room. Just one door over from yours,” she replies absently.
I stare at her for a moment, trying to reconcile Shaw being only one door over while I slept. We slept together under the stars for over a week. Why is it that sleeping in separate rooms with a wall dividing us suddenly seems so much more intimate?
I thank Rhonwen and take the last set of stairs two at a time. Shaw’s door looks the same as all the others, solid mahogany set with an iron knob. I try it tentatively and it springs open at once. I don’t know what I was expecting; maybe for some sort of elaborate trap to spring forth. Or at the very least, a lock. I huff a deep laugh at my own dramatics and step inside.
