So he wants to? Instinctively, I squeeze the blankets tighter against me. Not that it’d do anything to keep him away if he really wanted me.
“Where will you sleep?” I ask, inching the blankets higher. I’m naked, so I pray it’s not here with me.
He chuckles, actually chuckles, and the sound is almost alien to me. “I’ll sleep in my bed.”
Dread burrows in painful tendrils through my stomach. I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before, or slept naked, or slept naked with someone. “But—”
He runs his hands over his face, suddenly looking exhausted and resigned. “Are you going to talk all night or can I actually get some work done?”
“Sorry,” I apologise again and roll onto my side. I pull the blankets up and peer over the very edge. There’s so much blanket and he’s so far away, there’s no way he can see me watching. I don’t know why I watch him… I guess I’m just trying to figure him out. Kade makes no move to go back to his computer. Instead, he watches the bed and rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, as if in thought, deep thought.
“Master Kade?” I mutter, unable to stop myself. I can feel my curiosity rearing its head. It wants to know about Kade’s leaf collection. I never thought about collecting things like that… I should have. It would’ve kept me busy. Who knows, it might’ve even made me happy. The yard at the Unfortunate camp was filled with lots of random leaves. I didn’t know that someone, at one stage in their life, held something as small as a leaf to value. I saw it as a nuisance, a nuisance that covered the mud I liked to draw in.
He doesn’t answer and I don’t know if I should take it as an order to shut up, or if he’s letting me talk. Either way, I thread my fingers together and proceed at my own risk. “Can you tell me about your leaf collection?”
I want to know what it feels like to collect something. How many different types of leaves are there? How many did he have? Different shapes? What was his favourite shape?
He reaches across his desk and shuts off the lamp, throwing the room into semi-darkness. The only light came from his screen and that of the dwindling fire. I close my eyes. I guess he doesn’t want to talk. I was told it’s important to know your Fortunate, but I assume Kade is more comfortable being strangers. That’s fine with me, too. I’ve lived in a room with a lot of people for years and years, and to this day, I still don’t know their names. With my eyes still shut, I notice the room darkens again and then hear a faint sizzle as the fire is extinguished. My steady heart begins to beat a little faster, forcing blood through my veins quicker than normal as I hear him kick off his shoes and the other side of the bed dips. My mouth and throat dry up, and as subtly as I can, I shift backwards, moving as close to the edge as possible. To my surprise, Master Kade lies on top of the blankets and makes no move to touch me. Regardless, I don’t dare let myself relax. I’m in a potentially dangerous situation.
“You want to talk about my leaf collection?” he mutters, shifting on the bed. “I shouldn’t even tell you. As an Unfortunate, you shouldn’t soak up conversations. Your curiosity can get you killed.”
I want to ask him why he lets me get away with it. Why does he ignore it when I don’t refer to him as ‘master’ or when I mutter and mumble? Why?
“It’s the last question I’ll ever ask, I promise, I just… I just want to know what it’s like to have something—a collection, a hobby.
He exhales and shifts again, rolling onto his side. “As you can imagine, my collection didn’t last very long. It turns out leaves die when they’re not connected to a tree.”
I smile, catch myself smiling and then frown. It feels wrong. Every smile for him is an insult to my people.
“You stopped collecting? Why?”
“I thought that was your last question?”
I press my finger to my lips. After a short while he swears under his breath and blows air from his cheeks. “I’m not the same boy I used to be. I don’t care for leaves, decorations, flowers—anything.”
“What do you care about?”
I know I told him I wouldn’t ask any more questions, but I’m on a roll. He’s answering everything. I’m pushing my luck, I know that, but I can’t help myself. To hear about hobbies of any kind is interesting. I’ve never had one.
“I care about power and money. I care about control and routine… those are the only things that matter.”
To me, those are the only things that don’t matter.
“Hypothetically,” he mutters, and against his pillow, I hear him shake his head. “If you could care about something, what would it be?”