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“Like the magistrate?”
“Yes, I will have a trial.” He says it so plainly, like he’s ordering dinner.
I nod. My lips are tightly closed. Because other thanI’m going home, there’s nothing else for me to say. And I’m not about to tell him that. In his world, me leaving isn’t going to happen.
I take a step out into the hallway.
Nico moves behind me, and when I look back, he’s touching the top of the doorframe.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t waste your time with nothings.” I cock my head at him.
He nods, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “No, no, I don’t. I was putting the key to the door away.”
“You knocked.”
“I did.”
“But you were coming in anyway.”
His eyes skim up my body. It makes me furious at how much I heat when he does it. “I would have. Time isn’t on our side, Annabelle. Please come to the pod room.”
The pod bed is made. Holter and Castor are in the sitting room alcove. Castor has his feet up on the table. A golden tea service with cookies and sandwiches on a tiered cake stand sits between them. My stomach rumbles. I am not sure how I can be hungry again, not after the huge meal we had. But I beeline right to it.
I’m embarrassed for running off too, instead of talking it out. That’s something my dad would have done. I’m not him. I’m not running away from my problems. And I have to remind myself that escaping a capture isn’t the same as avoiding a conflict with a partner. I sit at the edge of the sofa, as far from Holter as I can.
Castor drops his feet from the table. The spoon resting on his saucer rattles. “Do you want some tea or coffee?”
“Please.” I can’t make eye contact with any of them. “Coffee?” They didn’t have coffee on the sub. I glance at Holter, who stares at the golden pot in front of me.
Holter puts his hand on my thigh, and I instinctively move toward him. “I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he says. “It’s just—”
“It’s something we’ve talked about for years. Planned.” Nico’s voice rings in the alcove.
Castor pours a cup. “Do you want honey in it?”
“Ah, honey? No honey. That’s something you do here? Milk is what I use.”
“I’ll see if we can get you some.” Castor darts out of the room before I can tell him whatever is fine.
“It’s his choice.” Holter inclines his head to the door Castor left through.
“He doesn’t have a choice. It’s what’s right for the dome.” Nico hasn’t sat down yet.
Holter fills a plate and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” I want to say it does matter. He’s confusing the heck out of me. And the part of me that wants to stay would want to know. I need him to stop it. But I’m not letting that part of me be in charge. It hasn’t even been a day yet, and I keep losing my focus. My eye needs to be on the prize. Get home. Graduate. Switch my emphasis of study and study my own darn blood. What sort of things could I learn? Bring to the human race?
I take a sip of the black coffee and hold it in my mouth. It’s burnt, sour, and gritty. Like a toddler used sand to make the grounds. I’m not sure what this is, but it’s not coffee. It’s bitter and weak. I swallow it and place the coffee cup back on its saucer with a glare.
I fill my mouth with a finger sandwich instead. It looks the most like something I recognize. It melts in my mouth, filling my senses. It’s unbelievable how great and varied the food is here. I had been working myself up for lots of fish. As I chew, Holter’s hand is back on my leg.
He’s no more innocent than the rest of them. His blue eyes flick to me, and he gives me a smile. I have to smile back, put on the charm. I need to make them believe I’ve forgiven them. Fake it till you make it. “It’s okay, Holter. I understand. And if Castor doesn’t want me, I get that too.”
“Castor not wanting you isn’t the problem. He wants you too much. And he can’t give everything away.”
