Page 58 of Stealing Tink

Apparently, Lars also took the bottom bunk, which I can tell from the snores rumbling through the partition. While I wouldn’t have been thrilled about sharing a room with anyone on this train, I find myself pitying Acel and grateful there’s at least a wall between our rooms.

Not that I had any intentions of falling asleep tonight anyway.

“What do you bet Acel is going to be in an excellent mood tomorrow?” says a voice out of the darkness.

I half-jump, feeling the train bumble over the track beneath me.

“Are you awake?” He whispers it like a child whispering to their sibling, hoping not to wake their parents and receive a scolding.

Irritation swarms within me. He knows I can’t answer him.

“Knock twice if you’re awake and once if you’re asleep.”

This man is an idiot. I’m not sure how this child in a grown man’s body became one of the most feared men in the world. But the world is full of contradictions.

When I don’t knock either once or twice, I hear the Nomad shift to his side. There’s a flick of something and then a warm light blooms across the ceiling.

Did he really just light a candle on top of a bunk bed on a train?

I was right: I am going to die tonight, but not because the Nomad is intending on murdering me. It will be manslaughter at best. Which somehow seems more offensive.

I hear something scraping against a surface, then a ripping sound. Moments later, a hand holding a note appears in front of my face, blocking my view of the window.

Are you awake? it says.

I roll over in bed and face the wall. Probably not the safest choice considering this man will one day try to kill me. But what can I say? He incites me to stupid behaviors.

Several minutes pass, and because I don’t enjoy sleeping on my right side, I flip back over.

Another note hangs from the Nomad’s hand. You’re supposed to write on the note, then pass it back up.

I snatch it from his hand, grab the quill on the bedside desk, and write, Stop bothering me.

When I place it back in his hand, his hand darts away. I hear nothing of his reaction except for the sound of him scribbling. The note appears in front of my face once more.

But I’m bored.

That’s because you’re a child, I write.

Why aren’t you sleeping?

Probably because you’re bothering me.

No, you weren’t sleeping before that.

Perhaps it’s difficult to fall asleep with a notorious murderer in the same room.

Yes, but I’ve never murdered you, he writes, underlining the word you.

Oh, if he only knew.

When I don’t respond, he retracts the note and writes something else.

Well, if you’re not going to sleep, might as well talk to me and make the night go by quicker. Or do you enjoy staring at the slats in the walls and listening to Lars snore?

It is a more pleasant sound than your voice, I write.

Then good thing you don’t have to hear my voice right now. I’ll stay quiet, promise. But only if you talk to me.