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“I’m not about to make you sleep outside,” he replied.

“Alright…” I said. I licked my dry lips. “You know, I was chatting with Magnolia more earlier. Before I fell asleep on that chair. She said Garrek gave her his tent to use when they were travelling, andheslept outside.”

He snorted. “I’m not sleeping outside.”

“Why not? Garrek did.”

His orange eyes flared briefly white. He finished up with the tent and closed the distance between us with big strides.

“Because I’m not Garrek,” he growled. “I’m the warden.”

“So, what, that makes you captain of the tent, then?”

“It makes me captain of everything.” His fangs gleamed in the dwindling light. “Including you.”

Ooh. Insufferable man.

I sighed, forcing myself to be calm. I was probably asking for too much. It was his tent, after all. I hadn’t come here with any supplies of my own. Maybe I needed to be a little less argumentative and a little more grateful.

“Sorry. I do appreciate it. It’s just… I worry that it’s not exactly… Appropriate.”

I expected some kind of instant, sassy retort, but none came. Instead, his eyes burned white again. It was extra noticeable as the darkness of evening gathered. He hesitated, and I was struck by the realization that he had probably already realized it was inappropriate.

He wasn’t even trying to deny it.

Instead, he coughed a bit and then said, “I need to finish your pants.”

Pants. He meant the pyjama pants. My palms grew damp. Blood rushed to my face.

That’s how he was planning to sidestep the whole appropriateness issue.

By making sure I had some fucking pants on while we shared that teeny tiny tent.

I suppose some pants are better than no pants, at least…

Would the warden wear pants?

Oh, God.

While Warden Tenn got to work sewing, I eased myself off the slicer once I was sure my legs wouldn’t give out. I found a private spot to pee, cleaned my hands, then returned to see that he’d brought out what looked like some dried meat and pickled vegetables.

“There’s water, too,” he said, aiming his tail towards a huge leather waterskin while he sewed.

“Thank you,” I said. I opened it up and chugged, panting by the time I finally closed the lid. I was a lot thirstier than I’d realized. Water dribbled down my chin, and as I reached up totouch that wetness, I caught the warden staring. I grimaced, self-conscious, as I wiped it away, wondering what he thought. I felt so…messyin front of him. Unprepared and unpolished. And it wasn’t just because of the spilled water.

It was because of everything. It was because ofme.

He’d told me earlier that anyone with eyes would see that I was good at my job. That praise had made my insides go into absolute freefall. A terrifying, head-over-heels pleasure much like the slicer ride. But I didn’t want to let myself give into it.

So, instead, I just sat down and ate my dinner.

“What do you know about the men we’re going to visit in Warden Hallum’s province?” I asked between bites.

“Very little,” he admitted as his needle dipped and flowed. “I know there are currently three convicts under Warden Hallum’s supervision. Their names are Dorn, Xennet, and Rivven. None of them have convict-wards.”

Three men to meet. That wasn’t too overwhelming.

“I’ve been wondering,” Warden Tenn said. He paused to bite off his thread before continuing. “Are there any diplomatic implications of the information that was withheld from you about the men’s pasts? Are there any higher human authorities who are included in your decision-making about whether the program will continue?”