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With a slow rotation of his forearm, Warrose snaps his shoulder back in place. Dessin doesn’t even flinch. My insides are gutted at the wet, crackling sounds that come from his shoulder and Warrose’s precise movements. How did I not notice?!
“I had to rearrange my body a little bit to get out of the dent I made in my cage,” he explains briefly, like it’s no big deal. He dislocated his own damn arm, and it’s no big deal.
“You mean the small space you made when you pulled your bars apart that time Skylenna was being attacked?” Ruth says with a hanging jaw.
Dessin snarls at the mention of me being harmed.
“And you roasted the head cook with a wounded shoulder,” I deadpan.
He blinks like that shouldn’t be a surprise.
I shake my head with a smile, continuing to eat my hot meal like it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted. And it kind of is. This small victory is delicious. It put a smile on all of our faces. It fed Marilynn and her baby. It squeezed a few new jokes out of Niles. It gave Dessin dominance again, even if it’s only over the kitchen staff.
“Oh God, is that Skylenna humming while she eats again?” Niles licks his lips and leans back with a full belly and satisfied smile.
I open my mouth to bite back, but a rough knuckle grazes my cheek. Warm and electric. Dessin’s gaze descends into my eyes like an anchor being dropped in an ocean.
“Fuck off, Niles. That’s the sweetest sound in the world to me right now.”
~
Warrose
I clean my bowl.
Literally.
I polish it, savor it, maybe even cradle it to my chest.
We all do.
But not the little rebel.
I glance down at her half-eaten stew with genuine offense taken at the sight. She’s really going to pull this again? We’ve been starved for how long, and she’s going to politely leave half her food to show us that she’s taking proper care of her weight?
We’ve been starved!
“Hell. No.” I huff out sharply through my nostrils.
Ruth points her stubborn, stony face in my direction, challenging me with tendrils of resentment coiling around her throat.
“Speak. Full. Sentences.” She injects the command with unfeeling iron.
This condescending tone pulls the same reaction out of me that I used to get with Absinthe in our Demechnef training. Irrational anger. An explosive approach.
“Full sentences, huh? Eat your goddamned food like an adult. You’re beautiful no matter how many calories you eat. There. Better? Was that full enough for you?” My chest tightens at the way her spine snaps straight and her face flinches in an effort to not show any reactionary emotions.
Clearly, I hear the insensitivity of my words.
But it’s too late. They’re out there. I’ve said them.
“I’m no longer hungry.” Ruth pushes her bowl away an inch.
But wait…are her round, doe eyes glistening? She stares into the vastness of the commissary with the graceful posture of royalty. Deciding I’m not worth her time to even look at.
Skylenna moves like a shadow around the table until she’s kneeling on Ruth’s left side, placing thin fingers on her wrist. Ruth keeps her head forward, but glances down with her brown eyes.
“I know it isn’t easy, but I’m so proud of you,” she says warmly. “This was good.” She taps a finger on the half-eaten bowl with pride and encouragement.
