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“Room service.”
I rolled my eyes. Charlotte probably sent something for me again. “Yeah, hang on.”
I unlocked the door and whipped it open, ready to send the server back to the kitchen.
But my mouth fell open instead.
“Hi,” Rose whispered. She held up a plate of pastries. “Um… sorry for being weird?”
“You’re…”
She lowered the plate, her gaze following it. “Yeah, I’m up and about. I felt better about an hour after you left. I…” Her eyes focused on my chest. “Are you still wearing it?”
“What?”
“The medallion.”
Rosy cheeks paled and then turned green. She looked like she was about to be sick. I grabbed the plate before she could drop it and tugged her into the room, guiding her to the bed. “You’re not better. You lied.”
“I’m fine. I just…” She covered her mouth and gagged. “Oh, I feel weird. I think it’s your necklace, Matty.”
Matty.
So, she wasn’t mad. She probably never had been mad. But how could I tell when she called me a damn murderer?
I sighed. “Let me take it off.”
“There’s a safe in the kitchen near the fridge. You can put it there for safekeeping.”
“Code?”
She hiccupped. “2-4-5-0.”
After removing the medallion and tucking it away in the safe, I returned to Rose who appeared to have improved in the thirty seconds I was gone. She held a pastry to her lips, caught mid-bite. More blush dusted her cheeks. She lowered it and frowned.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Still hungry.”’
“Stop apologizing.”
She shrugged. “Can’t help it.”
“If you don’t stop, I’ll—” I bit off my sentence. Was that even appropriate to say?
Rose patted the bed. “We should probably talk about everything that happened downstairs.”
“And at the fortress.”
Her face turned as red as a beet. “Yeah. We should.”
I sank into the mattress next to her, listening to the mattress creak beneath my weight. For a moment, silence reigned. The two of us sat with our legs crossed and a plate of pastries between us, one half-eaten scone sitting on top of all the others. I plucked a fresh scone from the plate and picked at the blueberries embedded in the soft, flaky flesh.
“You called me a murderer,” I whispered. “You said silver burned you.”
She sniffled. “Yeah, I… I have no idea why I said those things.”
“You had a lot of dreams. Do you remember them?”
Wrinkles erupted on her forehead, around her mouth. She touched her bottom lip lightly and then shrugged, concern tightening her lips together.
