Page 88 of The Sun He Buried

Snowpetal launches from Asta’s arms, hits the bed, and comes up with the unicorn’s crooked horn in her mouth.

I catch her before she can shake it. “That’s mine.”

Snowpetal puts one paw on the unicorn’s face.

“My grandmother made her.”

She growls.

I pull. Snowpetal pulls. The unicorn makes a dangerous ripping sound.

“No.”

The horn comes free. I fall backward with the unicorn against my chest.

Snowpetal stands over my legs and lashes her tail.

“You share. I know how to.”

Baldr leans against the open door between his room and mine. His coat’s gone. The top ties of his tunic are open, and his hair’s come loose from the leather at his neck.

I forget what I was telling the Sanguir.

Asta follows my eyes.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Good night.”

“In the next room.”

“I know where your room is.”

“The wall is thin.”

My face gets hot.

Baldr looks at the wall.

Asta points at him. “Don’t test it.”

“I had no plans for the wall.”

“Keep it that way.”

She crosses into her room and closes the door.

I stare after her.

Baldr steps into mine. “She likes me.”

“Very much.”

He closes the door between our rooms.

Snowpetal moves to the edge of the bed and bares every tooth at him.

“She likes you too,” I say.