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And so even upon his freedom he had not asked about it.
He had not wanted to know the truth.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s wonderful. I’ve taken some books from it myself.”
“I like this plan.”
“Maybe later we’ll graduate to watching a movie.”
He had not seen a movie since he was a teenager. “I would enjoy that,” he said.
“All right. We’ll plan that. I can talk to you about some of the movies that have been made since you went into the dungeon.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I feel that that sounded flippant.”
“You are all much more upset about my feelings than I am.”
“I just don’t want to make it sound as if I’m making light of what you’ve been through.”
“I cannot erase those years. They have made me into what I am, for better or worse. I’m not angry about it. I’m not wounded,” he said.
“How?”
“Because what I learned was to exist in the moment. Not the past or the future. Or to exist in... Someone else’s moment. And that is where books came in.”
“I see. Well. Shall we go to breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had the chef replace your porridge this morning. I had thought that we could start with something slightly different.”
“What is this?” he said when he walked into the dining room. There was a bowl on the table, and it did resemble the porridge he was accustomed to. But it was different. There was fruit on it. And sugar. And there was something like bread next to it, but it was not toast.
“It’s oatmeal,” she said. “Which is very much like porridge. It’s just a different consistency. It has fruit and brown sugar, which is how I like it. And I have given you an American biscuit.”
“A biscuit,” he said, frowning. “Is that not dessert?”
“No. It is a little bit like a scone. Except also not. I found a recipe, and the staff was all too willing to make this for you.”
“I’m not sure I’ll like it.”
“Neither am I. But you can get toast if you don’t like it. Because you are not a prisoner. And this is not a dungeon. And you don’t have to take whatever you’re served. You are the Sheikh.”
She was looking at him expectantly. Hopefully. And so he took his seat, as she had instructed yesterday, and he saw a little flare of pleasure in her eyes.
He wished to make her look like that as often as possible. He took a bite of the oatmeal, and he found it was not dissimilar, though the textures and flavors were stronger because of the addition of the sugar and fruit. But she seemed to be enjoying herself, and even though he wasn’t certain if he was, he didn’t wish to impact on her happiness.
He decided he liked the biscuit very much. And he did not need to enjoy it just to make her feel better.
“Let us finish this in the library,” he said. He had the urge, suddenly, to be in that room, where he had not been since his release.
They left the dining room, and they went down the corridor. One he had not been to since he was a boy. It was very strange. Visiting these rooms.
He had been to the throne room. He had been to the bedroom that he had been given. He had been to the dining room. He had not yet been outside.
He had not gone to explore broadly.
It didn’t seem to be the smartest thing.
