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“No?” I echo.
“I did not get what I needed from him because his despicable limbs are still very much attached to his body.”
I tell myself it does not warm my heart, the way he is still protective of me, even after everything. That this isn’t a sign that a part of him still holds some modicum of affection for me. That I don’t care about any of those things.
I lie.
And I don’t believe it.
But since I can’t afford to believe anything else, I also don’t acknowledge it.
“I can see there’s no reasoning with you right now,” I tell him instead.
His eyes narrow to slits and his chest heaves before he asks another question in a single, tortured breath. “Did he chain you up?”
I feel my features go slack as my mind wanders back to the worst night of my life, a time I try very hard never to think about at all. Finally, I see who it is Einar is so upset with.
Not me.
Not even the disgusting alchemist.
Himself.
And in spite of everything, I can’t bear to see him that way, not when he is mostly good in a world that is so largely evil. I won’t answer his question, won’t feed into his self-loathing or give him another piece of myself, but I can offer him a different truth.
“You are nothing like him, Einar.”
His eyes soften for a fraction of a moment before turning to ice once more. His hand reaches for his axe as he stalks toward the door.
“It’s late, Einar. Where are you going?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond.
Instead, he moves back into the passageway without another word, leaving me alone in the dark once more.
I don’t envy his target.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zaina
It’s nearly dawn when Einar returns, dripping with sweat and covered in wood chippings. He looks exhausted and vaguely surprised to see me still waiting in his room, but that’s only because he doesn't realize I’ve been perfectly capable of escaping from the day I arrived.
It wasn’t the chain keeping me here. It was the fact that I have nowhere else to go.
He makes a beeline for the shower, and only when he has turned the water on do I realize he has, once again, not bothered to grab anything clean to put on. I am fully acquainted with his armoire by now, so I rifle through it until I find his soft pajamas.
Then I ease the bathroom door open and hurl them inside without looking.
“You forgot your clothes,” I call to him in a frustrated tone.
I am already shutting the door when the sound of a quiet chuckle follows me into his room.
At least he’s in a better mood.
I can’t quite bring myself to get back in the bed when I have the freedom to walk around without the shackle, so I busy myself straightening small things, examining the plants hanging in his room and wiping the build-up of dust off the surfaces.
I eventually settle near the long window by the bed, staring out at the snow-covered trees and hills below. I hated it when I first arrived, but watching the delicate flakes dance toward the ground brings me a sort of peace now.
When Einar emerges from the bathing chamber, his white-blonde locks are still damp, but he is, at least, fully clothed. Which makes one of us, I realize.
