Twenty-Three
A soft knock on the door made Grace look up. It was Arjun, standing in the doorway, one hand on its frame. He lifted a tray of food. “Any chance I can get you to eat something?”
Assuming he meant the plural you, she said, “He’s sleeping.”
Heron still lay on the bed beside her, his face placid on her pillow. A soft snore escaped him.
“He sleeps like the dead,” Arjun said, and put the tray on her lap. “And he’s long overdue.”
Grace sat up, positioning herself against the pillows. She was ravenous.
“I thought you might be starving,” he said. “I can’t imagine not eating for almost three weeks.”
She tried to remember how they fed CyTown residents. Intravenously, she was sure.
“I hope my stomach can keep it down.” She was more than a little self-conscious about how she might
