Lark purses her lips. “They are in need of accommodations for the evening. I trust you can take care of them from here?”
“Will do, Mistress Lark. Will do.” Grizz produces a grand bow, waving a hand and bending low.
She lists her head and exits, closing the door behind her.
“Please, please, come in, come in.” Grizz claps twice.
Joshua approaches him, uttering the first words I’ve heard leave his mouth since he stood by and watched Gage tie me up. “Thank you. If you’ll point the way, I’ll show everyone to their rooms. Gage here will discuss the matter of payment.” His voice is milk on a sour stomach. Why can’t I stay mad at him, especially when he deserves it?
Grizz brushes his hands together, chuckling, his potbelly jiggling. “Yes, yes. Very good, very good. It’s just up the stairs, right that way.” He waves to our left. “Every room is vacant. No sir, not a single one is occupied. You are my first guests in quite some time, yes, in some time.”
Joshua navigates the narrow stairway. Preacher, Stormy, Kuna, Ky, and I shadow him while Gage remains in the lobby. Poor guy. I feel sort of bad for the Commander, forced to endure more of Grizz’s irksome redundancies. A song track set on never-ending repeat.
The shadow of a grin haunts my lips. Okay, maybe I don’t feel so bad for Gage’s discomfort.
A short hall spreads from the top of the steps, a floor-to-ceiling window at the end. Four white doors, each with a brass numeral nailed to its front, wait. Two to the left and two to the right. Joshua opens each one, peeking in, then moving to the next. After viewing every room, he faces us. “There are only four beds. Kuna and Stormy, you’ll of course room together. I’ll bunk with Gage and, Preacher, you can have your own.” He hesitates, letting the obvious sink in. He exhales. “Kyaphus, you’ll share with Eliyana. I’m assigning you as her full-time Guardian from this point forward. You’ll sleep on the floor. Lock the door. The rest of us will keep watch in shifts. I’ll take the first two hours. Once everyone has had a couple hours of sleep, we’ll move on.” He strides by.
I touch his shoulder. “Can we talk?”
He shrugs me off. “It’s probably best if, from now on, we don’t engage. Ky is your Guardian now, which means you and I have no real reason to converse. If you have any concerns, take them to Gage.” Joshua clomps down the stairs.
My incredulous gaze follows his form until he rounds the corner at the bottom. If his goal is to hurt me, he’s aiming for the high score. But I won’t give up. He can’t avoid me forever.
Ky opens the first door to the left but doesn’t enter. “After you.”
I pad past him. Is this how it’ll be from now on? Never a moment of privacy, always being watched?
So much for invisibility. I’m the Statue of Liberty. I represent freedom. Independence to these people. All eyes are on me.
All. The. Time.
The door clicks closed, and Ky slides the bolt in place. He walks to a stool, a lamp and a matchbox resting on top.
When a ball of gentle, yellow light cha-chas with the wall, I plop down on the bed. Its mattress gives beneath my curve without a sound. The blanket is soft knit, a rainbow of woven hues. A minute ago I wasn’t tired, my anger and confusion served as shots of espresso. But now, sitting here, long-awaited sleep is the only thing on my mind.
Ky sits in the rocking chair in one corner. Rests his elbows on the arms. Leans his head back and lets his shoulders slump. “You should keep your clothes on. Shoes too. If we have to make a hasty getaway, we won’t want anything to slow us.”
I glower. “And what makes you think I’d even consider getting undressed with you sitting five feet away?”
He laughs, palms up in defense. “Calm down, Ember. Just trying to do my job.”
Ugh, I’m so fed up with being a job to everyone. Is that how Mom thinks of me too? As someone she had to protect for the good of the Reflection?
How could I think such a thing? Mom loves me. She’s probably the only one who ever has. Ever will.
“Sorry.” I scoot back on the bed, half lying, half sitting against an embroidered pillow mountain. “I’m just tired, I guess.” Did I just apologize to Ky? The exhaustion must be wearing on me.
He rocks slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Don’t let David get to you. From what I hear, he’s always been that way. Standoffish. A loner.”
“You don’t know him like I do. We were close before all this happened.”
“Or so you think. Did it ever occur to you his nice-guy act might have been exactly that? An act?”
Of course it’s occurred to me. A lot. “Just leave me alone. I don’t have the energy to fight with someone who wouldn’t know love if it punched him in the gut.” Fabulous. I’ve just admitted to Ky I’m in love with Joshua. How’s he gonna use this one against me?
“You’re wrong.” The words are a whisper, as though coming from far away. “I know exactly what it feels like to care for someone so much, the very thought of their pain cripples you.”
Ky’s transparency stops me. Knocks on the barrier surrounding my heart. I cross my arms loosely over my stomach, loathing this person I’ve become. Mean and angry and bitter. Saying things to someone else I’d hate to have said to me. Even if that someone else is Ky. Mom would be ashamed.
I turn my head and stare out the slender window behind the lamp. A starless sky goes on forever, an evening fog settling low to the ground. “Who was she? The girl who broke your heart.”
Ky drums his fingers on the wood. “It doesn’t matter.”
I slide off the bed and cross to the window. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” And I mean it. I finger-comb my hair, pulling it off my neck. I’ve never liked ponytails, preferring to keep my face as hidden as possible. Now, in the grand scheme of things, the action seems pointless and shallow. I press my left palm against the window, flinching at the pressure against my cut.
Ky rises, meets me where I stand, and takes my hand in his. “Did this happen when you fell? Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s nothing, just a scrape.” I start to pull away but stop midway. No reason to flip out. It’s not as if he’s making a move.
“It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it.” He takes off his pack and lifts the flap, removes his canteen. “Sit.” I relax against the edge of the bed, and Ky kneels before me. “Hold your hand out.” I do. With brows pinched and jaw set, he pours water onto the wound. Dirt and dried blood thin and separate. Dark liquid drips onto the floor. Next, he withdraws a small vial hanging from a loop of string.
The Illusoden! “Where did you get that?”
He empties a few drops onto the scratch, and the sting vanishes. “Took it before Crowe could. Thought we might need it.” Finally, Ky pulls out a wad of gauzy material. Tears off a section with his teeth. Wraps it around my hand. His fingers linger there. After a moment he withdraws and repacks his first-aid kit.
I relax my hand, the warmth of his kind touch still present. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “That’s twice in one day you’ve thanked me, Ember. Never thought that would happen.”
Me either.
Ky moves to his place on the rocker, and I curl up on the bed, tucking my feet to my thighs. I withdraw Mom’s sketchbook from the inside pocket of Wren’s jacket and thumb through the pages. My eyelids droop, but I force them open. Mom’s drawings and scribbled words make me feel as if she’s here with me. I glance at Ky. Smile. For the first time in two weeks, I feel safe. Protected.
Not alone.
NINETEEN