I can’t bring myself to concentrate on any of my books. I end up on the balcony thinking about all of the things Vera told me. With the grimoire strewn across my lap, I scrawl the names of the magic Sitri dabbled in when he was a teenager.
Only retreating back inside when the sun sets. Vera brings up a plate, and we hold a short conversation through the door where I reassure her once again that everything is fine, we’ll be back, and Sitri’s really not even that mad.
After she leaves, I pick idly at my plate. Eventually, I’m forced to creep through the bedroom to use the bathroom. He’s passed out crossways on top of the comforter, still fully clothed, boots hanging off the side of the bed. He couldn’t even be bothered to turn down his side of the bed, head instead stuffed into the pillow I’d been camped out on for the last three days. Moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake him, I click the door shut behind me.
I plop down onto the sofa. I might as well go to sleep. The wine’s worn off, however my mind’s still fuzzy. With the fading alcohol, the daemon thumps back to life in a dull torture. I slide to my belly, arm draping listlessly to the floor. My mood grows dimmer with each passing second. Tomorrow, Sitri will leave again and change the lock before he goes, so there’s no chance I’ll be visiting Vera in the kitchens again. I’ll be stuck here. In this room, with little to nothing to do.
Tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
Forever?
I jolt when thebedroom door creaks open. Sitri sways, squinting puffy eyes in the doorway. Red lines indent his face where he was pressed up against the blankets. “Ah, I’m sorry if I woke you up,” I whisper.
“Dinner?” he asks, voice still thick with sleep.
“Sitri…you look half dead. I think you need to go back to sleep for twelve more hours.”
“M’ fine,” he mumbles. “Come on,” he says, swaggering toward the door.
I scramble to catch up with him, nearly falling over myself as I tug on my boots. He staggers down the hallway, almost exactly like the images of the dead come to life I’d just been reading about when I read about necromancy.
I jog to catch up with him. “Sitri?” I ask uncertainly. He grunts. “I’m not entirely sure you’re not sleepwalking.”
He pushes a palm against his face and growls. “Awake.”
“God, I think you need to learn how to take it easy, Sitri. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.”
His bloodshot gaze flickers over my face and then further down, brows a hard line on his forehead. “You should eat more. Too skinny.”
It’s a simple comment. One that should not slice me as deep as it does. I let my hair fall like a curtain over my face to block his view. He must’ve picked up on my stupid reaction because he halts. When I turn back, he’s holding out a palm, bafflement in every sleepy blink. “Still pretty, though.”
I despise the way my chest lightens with those three words. “Nobody asked you. And I’m still not totally convinced you’re not sleepwalking.” He grunts. “Not very convincing.”
Another grunt. I laugh. “Don’t want Vera to think we’re not coming back,” he mumbles.
“Oh.”
“And I wanted to see you for a little while.”
“Oh,” I say, quieter this time.
“Don’t act so surprised,” he says, shoving at my shoulder. I stagger and run right into the door frame of the dining hall. Thirty heads turn and stare, and he quickly straightens me. “Sorry, I forget how small and fragile you are.”
Vera looks shocked as I saunter in while Sitri’s still loading an obnoxious amount of food onto his plate. I skip over to her with a grin. “Told you we’d be back.”
She stiffens as Sitri makes his way in, plates hovering in front of him as he rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t mean you had to wake him from the dead,” she whispers.
“He insisted.” She arches a brow, and I plop down on my stool next to Sitri as Vera finishes cleaning up for the night. Sitri seems a little more alive once he’s eaten. He apologizes to Vera, and Vera looks so happy she could burst. He turns around and starts forming a series of symbols with his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting up a sound ward.”
“Why?”
