I was sorely tempted to ignore whoever was out there. Neeve and I had far more we needed to say to one another—though I had the feeling I’d be doing most of the talking.
“I can hear you in there,” Kian called, his voice muffled by the thick wood. “I brought food.”
That decided it. And he deserved to be a part of the conversation. All three of us were equally affected by Neeve’s rash decision, though in different ways.
Kian grinned at me as I let him in, lifting the tray of food he carried. My eyes widened at the assortment of plates and bowls, some stacked three layers high.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like—some of the things they eat here are very odd,” he said. “So I brought a selection. Whatever you don’t eat, I will. Hello, Neeve. I’m not surprised you’re here.”
He set the tray down
