Page 27

I don’t say anything as I take the seat beside him.

And neither does he.

Without a word, Eamon pours fresh springwater into the glass chalice in front of me. Then he lifts his hand in a gesture to a slave I don’t know the name of, one with long black hair braided down her back and whose nose is dented on the side like her crookedly set mouth.

She starts to clear the table.

Loosening a breath, I lean my temple on Eamon’s shoulder.

It’s not until the dishes are gone with the slave and table is wiped clean and glistening up at me that I finally break the comforting silence. “Where’s Aleana?”

Eamon snakes his arm around me, his fingers softly stroking my elbow. “With the healer, upstairs.”

I reach for the chalice. “Why?”

“Standard health assessment,” he says, and his lofty tone is enough to dig the frown deeper into my face. Light. Too light.

Hiding secrets from me.

I swirl the water around the chalice, watching it splash and wave like a wild sea. “Did she come to breakfast?”

His hand stops grazing my elbow. He sighs something gentle before he answers, “Very few did. It was only me, Rune and Samick.”

Daxeel…

Is he still resting?

Did he wake already to find me and my slip gone—and so he hides out from the glaring reality of my presence in his home? Does he avoid me for his own sake or to torment me?

Maybe it’s simpler than that.

Maybe he’s just busy with other matters.

I think of Dare’s indirect advice, because Daxeel will live his life outside of me, and so I should do the same.

“Will you stay with me today?” I ask.

Eamon’s shoulder tenses against my temple. A premonition of unkind news.

“I have matters in town.” That’s all he says.

“That’s why you waited here for me,” I whisper the realization with an edge of bitterness, then set down the untouched chalice. The springwater sways before stilling completely.

“I didn’t want to leave without seeing you first. Are you… alright? Did he harm you?”

I peel away from his shoulder and blink a weary look up at him, one that defies the amount of coffee I’ve already guzzled this phase, one that might look like I need to be back in bed too soon.

I shake my head. “Did you expect him to?”

His throat bobs as he cuts his gaze to the polished table. “I worry. Sometimes beyond what is rational.”

My smile is small, but true. “What is your business in Kithe?”

His gaze is glued to the table, as though the glisten of it is the most interesting ornament in the room. “There is a tavern,” he tells me. “Decrepit, practically in ruins. But it has a flat above it, and the rent is cheap.”

I stiffen in my chair.

Breath pinned to my chest, all I can do is stare at him.