Page 114 of The Sun He Buried

I know she remembers the doorway.

My face gets hot all over again.

“That’s her,” I whisper.

Asta’s head turns. “From last night?”

The woman flinches.

Wonderful. We have made this so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”

She drops into a bow so quickly that one knee strikes the floor. “My lady.”

“No. Please don’t do that.”

She’s already on her feet. She passes us with her eyes lowered and reaches the far turn at a run.

A door shuts below.

Asta watches the empty passage.

“She asked him to feed,” I say. “And to touch her.”

“I believe you.”

“She was happy last night.”

“She isn’t now.”

No.

My own tears have stopped. This feels rude when hers haven’t.

Asta closes our door. “Baldr shouldn’t have gone downstairs.”

“I told him to go.”

“You were crying.”

“The mine clerk looked ready to climb out the window. They need him for the count.”

Asta picks up the cold cup again. “They have many clerks.”

“Only one Baldr.”

She gives me a look.

I sit on the edge of the bed. Snowpetal crawls out from under it, puts both paws on my knee, and sniffs my chin.

“I’m fine.”

She licks the wet place beside my mouth.

“Thank you. That’s disgusting.”

Her purr starts.