I don’t answer Caelan right away.
I stay in closet, back against cold iron door, knife tight in hand. I can still smell old blood from that little stone room, even though door is closed.
“Ella?” His voice closer now. In my room doorway. “Mara said she heard voices. Are you okay?”
I push closet clothes in front of iron door so he can’t see it. Then I step out.
He stands in middle of room. Black shirt, hair messy, like he ran up stairs. He sees knife in my hand.
His eyes go to my face. To my eyes. Checking if silver.
“I’m okay,” I say. But my voice shakes.
He looks at closet. At window sill where shackles sit. At floor nest.
“What happened?” he asks.
Rhea made me promise? No. She said no games today. She told true story. Should I tell him?
If I tell him, he will say his grandfather
