Meena spun to face Jules. “Calm myself? What kind of monster are you? You expect me to be not upset? What would you do if someone wrested your perfect Ezra from you?” She pushed away on his chest, still trying to escape his grip.
“I’m sorry,” Jules responded, still holding her tightly. “The councilor does have superiority here.”
“Sorry?” Meena clasped her hands together between them. Throwing her whole weight to one side, she swung her hands around in a tight arc.
The unexpected central force caught Jules off guard and he was forced to let go of her.
Meena jumped back out of his reach, running to the open doorway.
They were gone.
She turned back to Jules. “Don’t apologize when you knew about this from the start.”
Jules shook his head. “Princess, I promise, I had no idea he was planning this.” The look on his face was more anguish than triumph.
Meena did not believe him, but she had no more words to yell. She climbed onto the bed, curling her knees up to her chin.
She was alone.
Except for Jules, who was still in her room.
“Get out,” Meena said, not having the energy to raise her voice above a whisper.
Instead of leaving, he walked across the room, his brow furrowed.
Meena watched, annoyed and confused.
He reached down to the floor and picked up the candle which had fallen during the fight. He set it back on the table, laying it on its side and waiting for it to stop rolling.
Then he lifted the tinderbox from the back corner of the table. Pulling it open, he felt the iron plate, the place where a spark was created when one was lighting a fire.
Meena hugged her knees closer, unsure what he was looking for. Maybe just a burnt finger.
Except the plate would be cold because Sol had used his magic to light the candle, not the tinderbox.
Meena tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
Jules also picked up the brimstone—a thin slice of wood which was supposed to catch the spark. He felt the flammable sulfur-tipped end on either side and smelled them as well.
“How did your husband light this candle?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?” Meena’s heart had been racing since the soldiers broke into their room, and it was not slowing down.
“The candle. How did Sol light the candle?” Jules asked again.
“With the brimstone,” Meena responded, acting as though it was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “My beloved husband has just been taken into custody and that is all you have to say to me?”
Younn somehow guessed that Sol was a Majis, but Meena did not want to give Jules any opportunity to prove it.
“Get. Out.” She pointed at the door.
“This is my home, Princess,” Jules said, but he moved toward the door.
“It is not your home,” Meena spat, raising her voice the longer she spoke. “It’s the house of some person who was forced to leave it so you could live here. Out!”
“Goodnight, Princess,” Jules bowed his head and left the room.
“Badmorning, Captain,” she muttered as he closed the door. The morning light had started to seep through the cracks of the window covering and so it was no longer night. Nor was it good.
