Chloe’s pov
Two days passed, and Nash didn't come back.
I told myself the first day that he needed rest, that whatever had happened in that basement would take time to recover from, and I kept myself busy in the garden until my knees ached and the light failed, pulling weeds I didn't need to pull just to give my hands a task besides worry. By the second morning, the empty side of his bed had started to feel less like patience and more like being quietly shut out of a thing, and I couldn't sit with that feeling any longer without answers.
I cornered Ray in the linen room, where she was folding sheets. I thought of ways I could approach the question but my mind seemed to have a way of working.
"Where's Nash?"
"He is busy, my lady." She didn't look up from the sheet in her hands, though
