‘We should go downstairs, see if there’s any of whatever they’re cooking left.’
I grimace. ‘Maybe you could go, and bring me something back?’
Michael and I are tangled together on the bed. His hand moves lazily along my spine, warm tendrils of pleasure radiating through me. I’m also conscious of how loud I was.
‘No one will mind. That’s if they even heard us. We’re the only room up here, apart from the bathroom. So you can moan my name as loudly as you like.’ He winks at me.
‘Oh God.’ I bury my face in his shoulder. He shakes against me, laughter a rumble in his chest.
‘No one is even going to care. Come on.’ He peels himself off me and starts getting dressed.
‘I might have a shower,’ I say, sitting up. ‘Before we go downstairs.’
He pauses, then lets his trousers drop to the ground, his gaze darkening.
‘Good idea. I’ll have one with you.’
Later, we head down to the kitchen together, hand in hand. The shower … let’s just say it took longer than usual, and there wasn’t a lot of showering going on. I glance at Michael as he glances at me. He grins, and I blush.
Despite our situation, I like this.
Like being here with him, just us, together. It’s how it should be. The Raven house, with its towers and shadows, seems a million miles from the warm kitchen with its green tiles and scrubbed wooden table, hanging lanterns casting pools of golden light. A pot of something bubbles on the stove, and a man sits at the table, a bowl in front of him.
‘Hey,’ he says, as we come into the room. ‘You both new here?’
‘Just arrived.’ Michael holds out his hand. ‘I’m Michael, and this is Emelia.’
The man gets to his feet, shaking Michael’s hand. ‘Welcome, welcome to you both. I’m Paul. Have you eaten? There’s stew on the stove, or fresh fruit in the fridge. Plus, I think there’s some of Sarah’s fresh-baked bread left.’
Stew and bread sounds pretty amazing. I can’t remember the last time I fed. Paul opens a cupboard, handing us a couple of bowls, then gets spoons from a drawer.
‘Help yourselves. You’ll soon learn where everything is. We all muck in here, there’s a job schedule on the fridge so you can put your names down in any empty spaces. You planning on staying at Greenwood, or moving on?’
‘Moving on?’
‘Sure. The network has plenty of openings, depending on what you want to do. The universities are in mid-terms now, but they take applications right up to the end of the school year.’
Universities? I must look stunned, because Michael grabs my hand, pulling me over to the stove. ‘Here.’ He takes the bowl from my slack fingers, ladling stew into it and handing it back to me.
‘Come and sit, Emelia.’ Paul pats the bench.
I sit down, putting my bowl on the table. ‘Universities?’
‘There’s only two in this country, though I think they’d like to open a third at some point. But if you want to go elsewhere, you’ll have to wait for a spot to open up on the ocean transports.’ His brow creases. Maybe because my mouth is hanging open. ‘You can get all the info at the community hub.’
‘Eat up before it gets cold.’ Michael sits opposite me, nodding towards my bowl as he plonks a plate of buttered bread between us.
‘I know it’s a lot to get used to at first,’ Paul says, taking a mouthful of his own meal. ‘But this is the best possible way,’ he continues, once he can speak. ‘It’s worth everything to be able to live like this again.’
He finishes, getting up to wash his bowl at the sink, drying it and putting it in the cupboard. I eat my stew, my mind racing. What in darkness is this place?
Paul leaves the room, and it’s just me and Michael and the scrape of spoons on our bowls. After a moment he puts his down. ‘What?’
‘There are universities here?’
He smiles, his entire expression softening. ‘Yep. It’s … this is a pretty wonderful place, Emelia. You’ll see, tomorrow.’
‘Why in darkness wouldn’t you have told me about it?’
