“No chair,” I said.
She smiled and sat on the floor, folding her legs like she belonged there.
“Not to worry,” she said. “I am used to this place. We usually just sit on the floor.”
We. The word punched me quietly. We usually sit on the floor. So she knew this place. She had been here before. She knew the floor. She knew the lack of chairs. She knew Kael in a version of his life I had not been part of. I did not know how to feel about that. Jealousy was too ugly a word, so I refused to use it.
‘We are jealous,’ Nyla announced.
“No.”
‘Yes. Our blood pressure has entered the room before us.’
“Be quiet.”
The woman looked at me curiously.
“Are you his new roommate?” she asked.
I did not know how to answer that. Mate sounded wrong. Prisoner sounded dramatic. Disaster sounded accurate.
