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S he should just go back to the car. Her face was heated with embarrassment, her ears burning hot. This was way over the line.

Sonder glanced down at her hands and looked dumbly at the bag she carried, then at every item she owned in the back of her car. “I didn’t think. This is so inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

His attention crawled back up to her face, and wished she had a free hand to swipe at the blasted tear about to escape.

He said nothing. She turned, stepping off the first step and preparing herself to drive back to Dublin proper, to— To where she didn’t know. A soup kitchen?

Behind her, the door to Murdoch Manor creaked, and closed her eyes, bracing for the sound of it shutting her out, shutting Sonder back into his crypt, safely away from her impropriety and carelessness. She couldn’t bear any more embarrassment.

But the sound didn’t come.

looked over her shoulder to see he’d only opened it wider.

“Well?” he intoned, gesturing inside. “Are you going to come in or not?”

Relief flooded her. As soon as he stepped down the steps to take the box and bag from her, she swiped furiously at the hot tears she couldn’t stop. Thankfully, Sonder said nothing about them, only helped her inside and commanded she sit in a chair he’d surely just vacated judging by the fresh glass and still-smoking cigar sitting next to it.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned several moments later with a fancy silver tea service, a glass of milk with a plate of biscuits, and a glass of wine. He set it in front of her, then moved his glass of whiskey to the tray too.

“Have your pick. Comfort food.”

laughed, she couldn’t help it. He looked as dishevelled as she felt. “None of this is food at all but the biscuits.”

He shrugged. “I’ll get you whatever you’d like. Crisps?” His expression went from hopeful to sour. “Hm. I don’t have crisps. . .”

“Tea is fine,” she said, and he poured her a cup before taking the whiskey back and sitting across from her on the coffee table, roles reversed from the day she’d done the same when he was upset.

“You’re not going to ask me what happened?” she questioned, stirring a bit of cream into her tea.

“No.”

“I showed up at your house in the middle of the night crying, with boxes, and you’re not the slightest bit curious?”

He rotated his glass, the amber liquid swirling. “Of course I’m curious, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m not one to pry.”

squinted at him. “Every bone in your body is made up of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. I don’t buy that for a second.”

He stretched across her to reach his cigar and she held her breath, every nerve within her coming alive with him so close. After a puff of the cigar, he said, “I’ll wait all night if it means you’ll stay.”

All of ’s teasing and prodding fled. She wasn’t certain what he meant by that, and she was too drained to decipher it, too drained to fight off the depression waiting in the wings to devour her. “I’ve been expelled.”

Sonder went very still. His voice was coated in ice when he finally spoke. “Please tell me that is a joke, .”

She shook her head, trying to fight off another swell of tears. “No. Dean Lynch”—she made a mocking face—“said he knew I was in the Trinity Cemetery. He suspected I had tampered with one of the graves, though he didn’t have proof. I told him I just picked a flower, but?—”

“How could he know that?”

lifted one shoulder. “Maybe the guard with the torch saw my car or me? Or— I don’t know. But they kicked me out and made me leave my dorm as well. I—” She heaved a great sigh, and Sonder stood.

“Well, you’ll stay here. I have spare rooms and we will figure this all out in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry to put you in this position. If they find out I’m staying here, there could be consequences for you.”

“It would take quite a lot to get rid of me.”

“But you’re a professor, and I’m a student.” She looked down. “Was.”

“Was,” he confirmed and took her teacup, setting it on the tray. “Now you are a woman who needs to crash with a friend.” He took her hands to pull her up. “And we’ll sort it all out to make you a student again.”

He showed her to a room that bordered on lavish but still tasteful, with dark green walls like her dorm room and a huge four-poster in the middle of a plush floral rug. It had its own private lavatory, and Sonder told her it was just down the hall from his room in case she needed anything. He even brought in all her boxes and helped her put some of her clothes away, and then he stole one of her books and made her laugh.

He left for a few minutes and came back with the milk and biscuits. “I’ll get you proper food tomorrow, but promise me you’ll eat at least a little.”

She promised, and he bid her goodnight.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her mind, body, and soul, and the bed was the most comfortable she’d ever been in. Sonder was right. They’d figure everything out in the morning.

Soon, she was fast asleep, dreaming of faeries and mythical lands of woods and flora, jagged teeth and rotting bones.