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He sits bolt upright, feeling its length with both hands. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s Marguerite’s,” I say. “The length and color are unmistakable. She kept her hair in two thick braids. This one must have been made from the other. He killed Juliane.”
I take a deep breath. “It was Oudin. He’s been the killer all along. And now he’s convinced his father it’s you.”
I wake with my head on Simon’s chest. My lower half is pressed against the wall, and his right arm is behind my shoulders, cushioning my upper body from it. Long fingers trail in a soothing rhythm through the curls which have come loose from my leather hair tie. I have no memory of lying down, only that I started shivering with exhaustion and cold, and Simon pulled me to him. The cot definitely isn’t big enough for two people, though it helps that his injured foot still rests on the stool. Most of my discomfort is from injuries.
“Are you awake?” Simon asks softly.
“Yes,” I admit. “But I don’t want to move.”
Simon shrugs his other shoulder. “Don’t then.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Not really. Your cousin came in a little while ago to check on us. At least I think it was her. I still can’t see a thing.”
I smile against his shirt, though the prospect of explaining moon magick isn’t pleasant. “Does that mean it’s noon?”
“I think it’s several hours past.”
My heart skips. I wonder if Athene has told Gregor I’m here, and that I’ve brought a Hadrian fugitive with me. Probably not. He’d be here now if he knew, hurling us out of the Quarter. “What have you been thinking about?” I ask.
“Mostly that it doesn’t matter who killed Juliane,” he answers. “I failed her as I failed my father. I left them both alone with a monster. With him it was fire. With her it was Oudin.”
I push up to look down on him. “Simon, you didn’t want either of those to happen.”
“Yet they did, because of me.”
Athene’s silhouette appears in the doorway. “Are you finally awake, then?” she asks. “I have some bread and stew ready.” She sniffs and leaves again. “I’ll prepare a bath, too.”
We agree to postpone our discussion until after we’ve eaten. It’s been so long since I’ve had a meal that I make myself count to ten between spoonfuls to keep my stomach from rebelling. Simon sits across from me at the table in the kitchen, eating equally slowly, though I think out of politeness or lack of appetite.
“Where is Hira today?” I ask Athene. I’m sure she helps with more than the kitchen and sickroom, but those are the only places I’ve seen her.
My cousin ladles more stew into my bowl. “I’ve sent her to a friend’s home. Your arrival this morning frightened her, and I knew seeing a Hadrian would be even more upsetting.”
I look down at my food. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that.”
“You didn’t consider much, frankly.” Athene puts the pot backon the hook near the fire. “For instance, what do you intend to tell Gregor?”
“Does he have to know I’m here?”
“Either you tell him, or I will,” Athene says firmly. “He’s a leader in the Quarter. He has to know, and he deserves to know.”
I wipe my chin with a cloth napkin and avoid her eyes. “I’ll think of something.”
“Do. And what about your Hadrian?” she asks. Simon’s eyes dart up to her, offended, and she smiles a little. “Are you going to explain anything to Simon here?”
I guess I should start with the most basic fact. “As it turns out, I’m half Selenae,” I mumble.
Simon snorts. “I figured out that much on my own.”
When he doesn’t say anything more, it takes me several seconds to gather enough courage to peek at his reaction. Rather than the disgust or horror I expect, Simon looks as though he’s waiting for me to continue. “Doesn’t that… bother you?” I finally ask.
His brow creases. “Should it?”
He doesn’t know what it means. “Probably.”
