She rolled her eyes, but her stomach was in knots as he slipped out into the dark, the door latching shut behind him. Kane’s face was stony as he swiped a hand through his hair. Zaria braced herself for his resentment, but it didn’t come. He merely sighed, looking as tired as she’d seen him thus far. “Come on, then. You can have my room—I’ll bunk with Fletcher.”
She blanched. “What?”
“You’re not going home, even with an escort. It’s late, and whoever’s after you clearly has instructions not to give up until you’re dead.” His lowered brow dared her to argue.
“But Jules—”
“Will be fine. No one’s after him.”
“He’ll wonder where I am. I can’t juststayhere.” The objection sounded weak even to her own ears. The reality was, she was terrified. Could this truly be about the faulty explosive device? Was that enough to make an attempt on her life? She could have made it work flawlessly if they’d only given her more time.
But perhaps that was the problem. She’d been given time, just like her father before her, and now she was out of it.
“Come on,” Kane said again, this time with a touch of impatience, and Zaria realized he was standing at the bottom of a stairwell she hadn’t noticed before. It was narrow, set back in the corner of the room, a distinct nod to the building’s former purpose. She followed him to the next level. It looked more like a regular home than she’d anticipated, lacking the high ceilings and industrial beams of the ground floor. Former offices, if she had to guess, though the space into which Kane led her had been converted into a bedroom. This was evidenced only by the bed in the middle of the space—otherwise,it was simply… bare, save for a wardrobe pushed up against the wall opposite the door.
It could have been anyone’s room. It could have been no one’s.
“It’s very clean.” She was abruptly conscious of what Kane must have thought of the dingy, cluttered workspace that doubled as her sleeping area.
“I like things tidy” was his curt reply.
Zaria couldn’t decide whether that fit with what she knew of him. Rather than meet his gaze, she kept her eyes on the bed, her cheeks warm. It felt inappropriate to be standing here with him, though of course that was absurd. “Will Fletcher be okay?”
Kane’s face shuttered. “He’d better be.”
Zaria thought of what Fletcher had told her earlier. “Do you think you worry about him too much?”
“Do you worry about Master Zhao too much?” Kane countered, a snide note to his voice. “I assume that’s why you didn’t bring him tonight.”
She stiffened. “That isn’t why.”
“Oh?”
“If you must know, I finally told him the truth. About everything.”
“I take it that didn’t go splendidly.”
“Insightful of you.” Zaria went to sit on the edge of the bed, trying and failing to ignore the searing press of Kane’s attention. “He’s desperate to help me. He wants me to teach him alchemology.”
Kane shrugged. “So do it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? You need help, and he wants to help. Seems sensible to me.”
“First of all, you know full well it’s horribly difficult to teach, not to mention learn. And second, I don’t want him to suffer.”
“But it’s fine if you suffer.”
“Yes,” she snapped.
Kane leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, brow quirked. “Sounds like you’re being an idiot.”
“You aresucha hypocrite.”
“No good could possibly come from my telling Fletcher about Ward’s threats. But you—you would benefit from letting Julian help you. You’re just being difficult about it.”
“You don’t understand,” Zaria retorted. Kane couldn’t fathom how much study went into alchemology. How many years it took to become even the slightest bit proficient and how it drained so much from a person. “Jules would feel the same if our situations were reversed. He worries about me, too—that’s why he offered in the first place. In fact, he’s probably worried about me now, seeing as I haven’t arrived home.”
