He shook his head.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Even after what I just told you?”
To her surprise, he smiled.
“Especially after what you just told me.”
Tem’s stomach turned over. There was so much more she had to tell him. They hadn’t even touched the tip of the iceberg. Leo didn’t know she was a Hybreed, that she was capable of cresting, that there was a mutiny being planned as they spoke. He didn’t know anything that mattered.
When Leo saw the expression on her face, he sighed, and said:
“One thing at a time please, Tem.”
Tem pursed her lips. He was right. One thing at a time.
“You’ve made it clear you won’t have a bath,” Leo continued. “Or champagne. So tell me, Tem, is there something else you’d care to do?”
She thought for a moment.
“Will you read to me?”
Leo arched an eyebrow.
“What shall I read?”
“The Raven and the Swan.”
Leo tilted his head, studying her. Then he said:
“Very well.”
He stood, crossing to the bookshelf. On his way back to her, he lifted a blanket from the end of his bed and draped it over her shoulders. Tem was moved by the unexpected gesture. It reminded her of when he’d given her his cloak in the graveyard. The blanket was warm, the fire even warmer. Leo read calmly, and Tem found herself drifting off to the sound of his voice.
When she woke, she was still in the chair, wrapped in the blanket. Tem glanced over to see Leo fast asleep, his long legs still crossed, the book still open in his hands. The fire was almost out, and afternoon sunshine was peeking through the bedroom window.
“Leo,” Tem whispered.
He didn’t wake.
“Leo,” she whispered again, reaching over and tugging on his sleeve.
His eyes opened and he sat up, looking around at her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Tem said. “It’s afternoon. You fell asleep.”
Leo stretched, uncrossing his legs.
“On the contrary—you fell asleep. I didn’t think it polite to wake you.”
Tem gave him a look.
He smiled, then it faded.
“In truth, you seemed like you needed it,” he paused, and his voice dropped. “I’ve...never seen you so peaceful.”