I glance at the door. It’s closed. This is the first time in days that he’s stepped inside. The first time since I asked him if he wanted to inspect my body.
I relax but gesture to the hallway. “Bathing room.”
If I had a silver coin for every time I’ve spoken that phrase to him…
When I return, still dressed in my night clothes but with arobe wrapped around me, I find he hasn’t moved, although his head is slightly tilted.
Always listening. Constantly alert. And, despite never bathing, as far as I’m aware, as clean-looking and fresh-smelling as ever.
The question leaves my mouth before I can censor myself. “When do you bathe?”
One corner of his mouth twitches up, the half-smile he gives me when I’ve amused him without meaning to. “I don’t need to.”
I hum in the back of my throat, unconvinced. “Everyone needs to bathe.”
His eyebrows rise. “I don’t sweat and I need only stand in a snowstorm and shake off the ice to get clean. Any dirt comes off with it.”
I’m not sure I believe him. “Was it always that way?”
His response is slower this time. “There was a time when standing in a snowstorm all night would have killed me just as surely as it would kill anyone else.”
Quietly, I pull out my chair and reach for the bread, lifting it to my nose and inhaling. “Whoever makes this bread is very talented.”
“That would be Juniper.”
I wasn’t expecting an answer, but now that I have one…
Keeping my focus on my food, breaking the roll and buttering it, I choose my question more carefully this time.
“Is she the one who spoke with you last night?”
Stellen stiffens.
I guess he’s wondering how much I heard. I’m not about to play any sort of game with him. “I heard your voices, not your words. She sounded…terrified and then sad.”
The tensionleaves his shoulders. “She was. Both.”
Breaking off the first piece of bread, I chew quietly, giving Stellen the chance to say more. Or not.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. “I’m taking you out of the city today.”
I swallow quickly. “Where to?”
“The Sacred Stone Temple to the east of the city. All of the ancient scrolls are housed there. I don’t have any books like the Chronicle; I only have a few scrolls written and illustrated by the Ferocie Scribes. But they might be useful to you, along with the other scrolls.”
He pauses, as if weighing his speech. “I also have maps showing our world as it was before the curse. They might help with locating the items you need.”
More intense than my happiness at accessing the knowledge I sorely need is my concern that he used the forbidden word:help.
The elation I felt vanishes as I meet his ever-ethereal eyes.
He never slips up when he speaks. Which means…
He’s warning me.
For some reason, visiting this temple…or maybe reading these scrolls…will bring me pain.
“Do you still wish to go?” His question falls into a new silence between us.
