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Numair’s smile falters. The loss of his father is still a festering wound. Before either of us can say a thing, a folded piece of paper appears before us, floating in the air as if strung on a thread. Neither Numair nor Kyle seem to be surprised, but I put my plate down.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Inara has sent me a message,” he says, showing me a blank page. “It’s bound paper. We don’t use it often because another paper binder could intercept it, but when it’s news that can’t wait, she’ll take this risk.”
“Bound paper like the letters from the Nameless One,” I murmur.
Numair nods absently as his eyes run over the lines of text only visible to him, and his smile vanishes completely.
“I have to go,” he says. “Some guards stopped Valdus when he was on his way to the factory. It was a regular inspection, but then they took him to the governor’s dungeons.”
“What does that mean?” I follow Numair through the doors and into the laboratory as he fails to answer. “Numair, tell me what’s happening.”
“They’re going to question him,” Kyle says, limping behind us. His cane forgotten in the greenhouse, he presses his hand hard into his thigh as he tries to keep up with our pace. “Not everyone survives the interrogation.”
“What are we going to do about it?” I ask.
Numair stops in his tracks. “We are not going to do anything. You’re staying here.” He points his metal finger to his chest. “I’m going to deal with this.”
“How?”
“I have my ways. I know people. And if everything else fails, my revolver can be very persuasive.”
27
Aheavy melancholy has settled over the kitchen, making it impossible to keep up a semblance of normality as we eat dinner and await news from The Broken Sands. I’m on my second serving, taking each spoonful of porridge with careful consideration. Since we took our seats around the table, Mylena’s watchful gaze hasn’t been fixed on my movements as if the future of the whole empire depended on even a drop spilled.
“I’ll start on the dishes,” Mylena says as soon as I scrape the bottom of my bowl.
He son grabs the cutlery and carries it to his mother, who is already filling the sink full of heated water.
“I’ll help you,” I say, picking up Lara’s and Kyle’s empty glasses.
“What are you doing?” Lara mouths.
I only shrug and follow the boy to the other end of the room, stacking glasses next to the sink. With a pleading look in his eyes, her son asks if he can go play with Kyle, and when Mylena nods, he’s off before his mother can take the next breath.
Despite Mylena still observing every single one of my movements, I pick up jars with supplies and begin stocking them in cupboards. I’d rather face any of my sisters than spend another moment in this woman’s company, but if there is anything between her and Valdus, I want to know. If only to stifle any futile dream.
“Your boy seems like a smart boy,” I say when the silence grows heavy.
Mylena gives me a hard look. “He is.”
“What’s his name?”
“Gavin.”
“What is he? Five, six?”
“Six.”
I sigh. If I want to get anything but curt answers out of her, I’ll have to change tactics.
“I’m not sure what I did to wrong you, but I’m part of the rebellion now. I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” Even less with the girl Valdus fancies.
Mylena snorts. “As if a pretty princess who hasn’t had a day of hardship in her life could understand the life we lead in the desert. As if a daughter of the tyrant sitting on the golden throne could care about anything else but her own vanity.”
I drop the box of silverware onto the counter as anger burns through my veins. Her words sting much more than I would ever be willing to admit, and I can’t think of a single thing nice enough to throw back at her.
