Page 98 of Bone Year

I don’t know what that means. I’m too drunk to figure it out, and he doesn’t offer to translate.

The walk is a blur. Stairs. Corridors. The torches in the halls, guttering low. I turn my face into his neck without thinking and breathe him in. Winter air. Crushed pine. Something that might be leather.

“You smell good,” I mumble into his collar.

“Go to sleep, Rose.”

“I’m being carried. That’s not sleeping.”

“It’s close enough. Stop talking.”

“Make me.”

I feel his breath against my hair and realize how gently he’s holding me.

I don’t have a smile in me tonight, but things feel a little less badly than they did before.

“Nella’s dead,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“I killed her.”

“No, the necrosis killed her.”

“I could have⁠—”

“You couldn’t have.” His voice isn’t harsh, but it isn’t gentle either. “I spoke to Theo. I spoke to the healer who came in after. The corruption was at her heart before you made it into the room, Rose. There was no cut you could have made that would have saved her. The alert went out too late.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

I don’t believe him, but something in my chest loosens by a thread.

We reach my door. He shoulders it open and carries me inside, and for a moment I brace for some mockery, some final barb. Sleep it off, Rose, and try to do less damage tomorrow. But he doesn’t say anything like that.

He lays me on the bed and pulls the blanket up over me. His hands linger, and then he steps back.

He crosses the room, pours water from the pitcher, and sets the glass on the bedside table with a soft click.

“Drink it before you sleep. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m not. I’m keeping you from choking on your own vomit.”

“That still counts.”

“It’s the bare minimum for not being a monster. Don’t get sentimental.”

He stands there a moment longer, looking down at me, then reaches into his jacket and pulls something out.

A small leather journal. Worn at the corners. “Nella” is etched into the cover in faded gold.

My breath stops.

“What—”