I give a grateful nod, happy to have finally got an answer.
“Would you show me how you made this?” I ask, gesturing to the chair he’s putting together. I’m not sure I mean what I’m saying, or I just want something to break the tension. “It looks like magic to me, with the way it all fits together.”
Finch smirks. “I assure you, love, it’s entirely mundane. But maybe I’ll show you with the next one and you can put the pieces together? Something tells me you’ll be good at that.”
And so, he does exactly that. It’s late into the night by the time we’re done and, by then, I’m flagging. I slump down in my seat, resting my head against the chair back as my eyes grow more and more heavy.
I try to force my eyes open, but there’s a low voice in my ear. “Stay like that if you like. Sleep if you can. I’ll make sure you get back to bed so you don’t crick your neck.”
When I wake, I’m back in my own bed with Frannie’s heavy breathing vibrating through the wall. Two things strike me.
The first is that Finch is surprisingly good company.
And the second is that I have no recollection of how I got back to bed.
Chapter 6
Reva
The next day, I find Kit exactly where his brother said he’d be. He’s sitting on the floor of the room I fell asleep in last night, surrounded by embroidered underpants with all of the sawdust from last night cleared away.
“Hello, stranger. Have you eaten yet today?” I slide a plate onto the wooden floor beside him along with a cup of black tea so well brewed, it’s practically solid by this point.
Kit looks at the pair of underpants in his hand and then looks up to meet my eye with a frown. “I’m not sure.”
“Eat, then. I can’t remember the last time I saw you in the kitchen.”
He cocks his head to one side, his frown growing even deeper. “I can’t really remember either.”
“What have you been doing with yourself? Beyond all of... this?” I wave a hand around at the piles of stuff that are littered across the floor.
“Oh, you know this and that. Keeping busy.”
I give a slow nod. “Right.” I shovel food into my mouth and eye him. “You haven’t come to my room,” I say. “Or been around at mealtimes. I haven’t even seen you with the other guys when they’ve been doing a shitty job of cutting firewood or fixing the floorboards.”
It’s like he’s been a ghost, flitting through the house unseen.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been here. I’ve just been distracted.”
I nod. Understandable. We’re all trying to get used to being here, but I’ve seen everyone else at least in passing—even Torin, who’s avoiding me as much as he can.
Maybe the darkness from last night hid the sheer volume of trinkets and random objects spilling out over the floor, but they seem to be multiplying every time I look. There’s a pile of books and papers in one corner and metal compasses, glossy enamel boxes, and candlesticks, just to name a few.
So many lovely, shiny things.
“What’s your favourite?” Kit asks, his eyes locked on the side of my face and a little half smile on his face.
“What do you think my favourite is ?” I ask.
For a moment, I’m not sure he heard me. He glances down at the metal jug in his lap, his hair falling over his forehead in a way that makes me desperate to push it away for him.
He stays there, not moving, until it hits me that maybe he won’t answer.
“Kit.” I lean forward. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Then he grabs something and passes it over, squeezing gently as our fingers brush together. “Here. Your favourite thing.”
It’s a silver-plated shell. Perfect and spherical, and shiny, too.
