He nods, not missing a beat. “Me too.”
I lift my eyebrows. “No luck yet?”
He shakes his head.
I return to my book.
I skim the whole thing. And then another. We don’t utter a word the entire time. I’m beginning to feel tired, but I don’t want to return to my room where I may be left alone with my thoughts again. In here, the presence of Daegan is weirdly distracting me, even if we aren’t talking. But my eyes are starting to get blurry, causing me to rub at them.
Daegan clears his throat again, and it’s jarring in the quiet, echoey room. “You should really get some sleep, you know.”
“You probably should too.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Nor do I.” That’s a lie. I normally do. But the past few days have me feeling like I may never get a restful night of sleep again.
“Perhaps not. But the constant rubbing of your eyes you’ve been doing throughout that entire book says otherwise.”
How frequently has he been watching me?
“I didn’t do it that much.”
“You did,” he says with confidence.
“Okay. Maybe you’re right. There’s always tomorrow, anyway.”
He nods as I stand and begin to gather my things. He rises as well, placing all the books back on the shelf. He has no bag or any sort of personal belongings that I can see, but I know he must keep at least a couple of knives on him somewhere. Plus his flask.
And a key, apparently.
He comes closer than a bookshelf’s length away for the first time tonight, the lights finally revealing a faint shadow of darkness under his eyes.
I raise my eyebrows as he stops right next to me.
“I’ll walk you back,” he says, as if that’s completely normal.
I look up at him. “You don’t need to follow me around anymore.”
“Don’t I? You’re more important to me than ever now,” he says as he watches me with heavy lidded eyes.
I know he only means that I’m now an important part of this plan to break the curse, which he cares deeply about, but still… the words do something strange to me. His eyes burn into me, the depths of them holding me frozen in place, and I’m suddenly lost for words again.
At last, I mutter an “okay,” and take off down the center aisle. I hear him follow, but I don’t look back.
After we lock up, we stroll down the hallway in silence. It’s not safe to discuss anything to do with the plan, so we’re left with nothing to say between us.
“It really is a beautiful castle,” he says at last. I glance over at him and find him admiring the architecture, the intricate, dark details that are woven in every room.
“Where do they have you staying?”
“In the East wing,” he replies.
“Ah,” I say, drawing it out, momentarily unsure what to say next. “Is it anything like your home?”
He scoffs. “Not quite.”
At first, I think I shouldn’t pry, but then the silence begins to take over again, and I change my mind. “What’s it like?”
