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“I’ve been filled in.”
I use my elbows to prop myself up. My lips bunch together to keep from blurting out apologies.
“You know, I really miss the asylum. That chickenshit was too scared to ever come to the front then.” He’s annoyed. Not angry. My shoulders slump a little.
“You don’t like him either, huh?” I ask.
“What’s there to like?”
“Well—”
“Don’t answer that,” he orders.
I laugh. “Are you angry with me?”
Dessin lifts his chin to look down at me from under his lashes. Considering.
“No,” he says.
“No?”
He finishes the last loop of his black laces.
“You’re the one that had to sleep next to him,” he says, cringing. “You should be the one that’s upset.”
“Do you think Kane will be mad?”
“No, he’ll probably laugh. For the same reason I’m annoyed.”
I sit up, clutching the blankets close to my chest. Is what I did not wrong? Shouldn’t they be jealous or furious or hurt? I stew in my thoughts, trying to understand the meaning of all this.
Dessin kneels down on my side of the bed, looking up at me the way you would a child.
“I can see your wheels turning,” he comments. “You don’t understand how this works.”
I really don’t.
“The way I’d react to you being touched by other men versus another alter will be night and day. It’s not the same. I’d cut down a man for even glancing your way. But—we all use the same body. It’s different.”
I sigh, a cloud of confusion thickening over my thoughts.
“Okay,” I respond.
Dessin continues to watch me, eyes trailing curiously over my face.
“Get dressed.” He stands, holding his hand out for me. “It’s time to continue our ruse.”
~
“Sleep well?” Runa asks, wearing a see-through dress that barely covers her bottom and thigh-high boots. We can see every detail of her backside as she walks.
Dessin has an arm around me, holding me tight to his side. I have to pretend it’s normal. I have to act like being this close to him is an everyday occurrence for us. But I’m elated on the inside. My heart taking a lap around my chest like a wild stallion. I breathe through my nose to capture the scent of cedar and wood dust. Commit it to memory.
“We’ll eat, then we’ll be on our way,” Dessin says, stroking the side of my arm with a calloused thumb.
I look up at him questioningly. I thought we would hear about the prophecy. About why the elders want to help us?
Dessin catches the question flinging from my gaze.
