I’m not surprised by the snick and clunk of the lock turning into place after he leaves.
It makes me wonder what Fenix wants with me, though. He’s still not killed me, and he’s gone to a lot of trouble and involved a lot of people in my kidnapping. Although I’m not the only thing they’ve liberated, he’s taken the books, too. What I want to know now is why.
If he and others have the ability to use their power outside the constraints of Aslendrix’s power, is this what Orion was afraid of—why he wanted Ten to spy on me?
I stand and pace the few feet of empty deck in my room before turning and heading back over the same planks of wood. Turn and repeat. Turn and repeat.
Until I feel a shift and the floor seems a little less stable. We’re moving. The sway and pitch are more pronounced than when we were coming aboard.
My stomach takes a moment to adjust to the new sensation. I grip the desk to keep still, close my eyes to centre my mind, andthink of Ten, of our connection, that invisible line that joins us, and tethers us together. I want to yank on it so hard that there’s no way it could be felt as anything other than a plea—a desperate plea for help. But right now, I’d settle for a simple answer—to know he was okay and safe.
Safe seems a relative term for anyone who has me as a friend, and I think of Calix and what he tried to do for me. He needs Perrin, or another healer and fast. But without magic, will that be enough?
The key sounds in the lock, metal on metal, until the door creaks open. The woman—Selina—steps over the threshold but doesn’t move farther inside.
“Come with me. You can change into these when you return.” She throws a collection of fabrics onto the chair and waits for me.
She’s older than me, but not as old as the other man she was with. Her hair is dark, almost raven, cut short at the jaw, with a wave to it. Not curly like mine. Her eyes are narrow, and her gaze is nothing but assessing.
Judging.
If she can calm the sea, I’m guessing she isn’t lacking in the power front, so I decide not to pick an argument. I give her the smallest of nods and follow her out of the room. We don’t go far.
Just next door to Fenix’s room. Which, as the door swings open, I see is a huge space compared to my pokey box. There’s a table in the centre with books and parchments stacked upon it, a bed stowed in the corner, and on the far wall, underneath a set of stained-glass windows letting in a poor show of evening light, is a copper bath.
“It’s all yours. Water should be warm. I’ll wait outside. Call when you’re finished.” She closes the door, locking me inside.
The urge to utilise this time to spy on anything and everything he’s left out is overwhelming, and I rush to thetable first. It reminds me of Orion’s office—an untidy chaos of information before me, with no obvious starting place.
Books. Maps. A journal—his?Bound in thick leather. I’ve not opened mine in weeks, not since arriving in Kirrasia.
I don’t recognise the maps. They don’t show Estereah or anything I can make out as Kirrasia. But then, am I that well-versed to identify them?
Scribbles, markings, targets, or identifiers decorate the drawings with lines crossed and recrossed in different coloured inks.
The information swamps my mind, triggering more questions, which I’m ill-equipped to answer. So, I take a deep, steadying breath and give up, before undressing. As I dump my clothes, I realise that Fenix wasn’t wrong about my scent, and I eagerly step into the lukewarm water, the first I’ve seen in days. There’s a small wooden stool with a bar of creamy soap, and I use the time to scrub myself clean, including my hair.
The water turns tepid before I’ve finished rinsing, and I use the small cloth to dry off. The smell of lavender lingers, and I eye my dirty clothes warily. I look around the room and spot a wooden wardrobe. He didn’t say I couldn’t, so I take a look, and happily liberate a cotton shirt that does a great job of covering me, at least until I’m back to my own cabin, where I can change.
Selina knocks on the door before opening it, giving me a flat, cold look that tells me she doesn’t approve of my choice of dress, but she doesn’t speak. She leads me back into my room, then closes and locks the door behind me.
With nothing else to do, I change into the rest of the clothes provided for me and wait.
At least it’s comfortable.
At least it’s light.
At least I’m clean.
I pick over any small positives I can, an attempt to shore up my defences against the prospects ahead of me. Everything else might be stacked against me, but I’m alive. Ten is alive. Kyra is alive. Calix is alive.
My mind runs to Lyle, and I stumble on doubts that seem to have only grown. Doubts that cast my entire childhood into shadow and question. Stars, I’d love to speak to her. To be safe enough to get over the relief of seeing her again, but then to really see her and confront her. What else has she hidden from me?
The grate of the lock turning stills my heart for a second, and I scootch myself off the bed and stand, balling my fists at my side.
Fenix appears, with a tray balanced in his free hand. “I brought you some food.” My stomach wakes at the smell of herbs and vegetables, turning violent and urgent. He places the tray on the platform bed behind me and grabs the chair, setting up a makeshift table. Instead of leaving me, though, he closes us in, using the door to lean on.
It’s been a hell of a day, and I’m not too proud to go ahead and eat when I have the opportunity. I take the seat and pick up the wooden spoon.
