The room feels settled. Comfortably broken in. A stone table sits at the center, its surface worn smooth from use. Only two chairs. Two places are set. Food waits in shallow dishes, steam lifting in thin threads.
“How do things like this get here so fast? Just on time?” I ask.
Rythar pulls a chair out for me, then takes the seat opposite, his eyes angled toward the entrance. Only then does he lean back, one arm resting along the stone.
He raises an eyebrow. “Things like what?”
I gesture to the steaming food. “Like this? Like the fresh towels. Fresh clothes. I’ve seen people bring food into your quarters, a few other places. But most of the time things are magically waiting for you. How do they do this without being seen? Hidden passageways?”
Rythar stares at me for a moment. “Some. But things like food and cleaning are automated. It has been this way for a long time. We do not have many suited to service of that kind.” He grins at me, showing his perfect white teeth and inhumanly long canines. “No women.”
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. He rarely grins, and when he does, I know he’s up to something. “I’ve seen lots of men cook and clean,” I say primly.
He lowers his chin. “And do you think I should cook and clean?”
“Can you?” I ask.
“Would it impress you if I did?”
My smile breaks into a small laugh.
He watches my mouth as it does. For a heartbeat, he looks almost unguarded. Then something shutters behind his eyes. “Ihave left many matters to Drenz,” he says. “But some things do not wait.”
“Vorak,” I say, guessing what he’s referring to.
He takes a drink. Swallows. “Yes,” he says darkly.
I break off a piece of bread. The crust flakes onto the plate. “People like him don’t let go.”
“No.”
“You know more than you’re telling me,” I say softly. I’m useless cooped up inside this fortress. I can’tdoanything to helpanyone.
His gaze drops to where my fingers brace against the table’s edge. “I would prefer you not be involved,” Rythar says in a firm voice.
I look up. “That stopped being an option when I crashed on your planet.”
Rythar’s expression tightens. He exhales through his nose once, slowly, then nods. “Yes,” he says. “But I can reduce your exposure.”
“I can’t stay hidden forever,” I say.
“You are not hidden,” he replies. “You are kept out of reach. Every male on Xytheos knows where you are. Where every Starfallen Bride has ever been placed. And I do not want them taking a special interest in you. No more than they already have.”
My hands shake when I reach for the food again. I rest my wrists on the edge of the table and focus on tearing the bread apart.
Rythar’s chair scrapes softly as he leans forward. He reaches across the table and closes his hands over mine.
“Whatever comes,” he says quietly, “will have to come through me first.”
“So I sit here with nothing to do but worry.”
“No.” He releases my hands and gestures toward the far wall. A seam in the stone catches the light, just visible if you know where to look. “I did not bring you here only to eat. I have a gift for you. I have prepared an engineering room,” he says. “It is private to you.” He pauses for a moment. “You may dismantle whatever you wish. Build what you can. No one but you and I may enter this room. Nothing leaves the room unless I approve it.”
He watches my face closely, brow lowered.
When I smile, the tension in his expression drains. He’s pleased that I like his gift. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him since before Vorak visited.
I squeeze his hands tightly, because heseesme. “Now I know why you grinned. You had this surprise planned. Of course I love it.”
