Mother never had come back. Persephone was going to.
Adam marched to the connecting door and opened it. Persephone wasn’t asleep, Adam realized, seeing the bed empty. He found her in the next instant, sitting on the window seat, holding back the thin, blue curtains and gazing out into the darkness.
“Persephone.” He kept his tone detached and neutral.
She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Adam!” Persephone turned to look at him, dropping the curtain.
“Aren’t you asleep?” Adam asked, feeling like an idiot for posing such a pointless question.
“I couldn’t seem to get to sleep.”
“Are you stiff from your fall?” The memory of her accident flashed quickly through his mind.
Persephone shook her head. A howl echoed outside the window, and she visibly tensed. She turned to the window, pulling back the curtain once more.
“They are loud tonight,” Adam said.
Persephone nodded mutely.
“How long do you plan to sit at that window and worry over the wolves?” Adam fought down a surge of empathy for Persephone. He knew how nervous the howling made her.
“Until they stop,” she answered in a tiny voice.
She meant to sit there all night instead of coming into his room, where she would actually be able to sleep? No point in both of them being awake.
Adam crossed to her bed and pulled off the blanket. He reached her at the window and draped it over her shoulders.
“Adam?” Persephone looked up at him, so obviously confused.
“You should have come in when the wolves first started.” Adam made his way to the door.
“Come in?” she repeated.
“And curled up on the bed.” He stopped at the door and turned toward her, waiting.
“You knew?” Persephone whispered, her face paling noticeably. “I . . . I thought . . . I thought you were asleep.”
“Asleep?” Adam answered, with an ironic raise of his eyebrows. “That’s the problem.”
“Problem?”
“I can’t sleep.” He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. “You’ve ruined the room for me.”
“What do you mean, I’ve ruined it?” Her forehead creased with confusion.
“My bedchamber used to be quiet. Then you started coming and making all those noises—”
“Noises?”
“When you sleep.”
“I make noises?” Her pallor began to pink.
“And you move,” Adam added. “Constantly.”
“Good heavens,” she whispered, pressing her hands to her cheeks. The blanket slipped to the floor.
Adam let out a frustrated sigh and crossed back to her.
