Grub stared blankly at the doll-like girl sitting at his desk.
She was in his room. In his chair. Reading his notebook. Her blond bangs hid most of her face, obscuring her eyes completely. Despite being caught red-handed reading through his personal notes, she didn't look embarrassed in the slightest. She simply sat there calmly, holding the notebook as if this entire situation were perfectly normal.
Her face held no expression whatsoever despite the fact that she had just been caught going through his most private possessions.
Grub scowled.
"Can you explain what the hell you're doing in my room?"
Luthiel looked at him. Not a single flicker of guilt crossed her face.
"I pay for this room," she said flatly. "This is technically my room, is it not?"
Grub huffed. She did have a point. An incredibly annoying point, but a point. Technically this was her room. She was the one spending her allowance on it. He was just the one sleeping in it.
That didn't make this okay.
He turned to her, his expression still sour.
"Yeah, sure, this is your room. But that notebook isn't yours." He pointed at the enchanted book open in her mitten-like hands. "And why are you here without telling me? Came to watch me sleep like some kind of weirdo? You usually wait outside. What's the deal?"
His eyes narrowed. "You better start talking."
Luthiel remained entirely unfazed.
"I came to get you for our meeting."
Her voice was calm and uncaring. "But you did not answer."
She folded her mitten-like hands in her lap. "So I entered."
Then she added without hesitation. "Yes. I watched you sleep."
Grub nearly choked. "You WHAT?"
"I watched you sleep."
She said it exactly the same way someone might comment on the weather.
"I was also reading your notebook because it was interesting."
She tilted her head slightly behind her bangs.
"Who is this Wrighty?"
Grub's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
"How can you say you watched someone sleep with a straight face?"
"I was simply observing."
Grub got off the bed and crossed the room in two strides, snatching the notebook out of her hands. Luthiel didn't resist. She just let it go, her arms dropping to her sides as if nothing had happened.
"Who Wrighty is, is none of your business," Grub said firmly, sliding the enchanted notebook into his coat. "Quit reading my stuff."
He sighed, folded his arms, and glared at her. "You know, you can't just snoop through people's things because you own the room."
Luthiel shrugged. She didn't appear particularly bothered. Instead she stood up and dusted off her dress.
"Then tell me who Wrighty is."
Grub started cleaning his bed, straightening the sheets and putting things back where they belonged while still shooting glares in her direction.
"Like I said. It ain't your business." He tossed a pillow back into place. "Can't believe you'd do something like this right after giving me that great gift. What a switch up."
He paused, then added more quietly,
"That gift is the only reason I'm not as mad as I should be right now."
Luthiel stood up from the chair.
That finally earned a reaction. A very small one. The corners of Luthiel's mouth twitched upward for a brief second. Then her expression returned to normal.
"I am glad you enjoyed your gift," she said, her voice still perfectly flat. "But you told me you would talk. So you will tell me who that is."
She walked toward the door, then stopped.
"But I suppose I should let you get ready first. I will be waiting outside." She glanced back at him. "Don't be long."
The door closed behind her with a quiet click. Grub stood in the middle of his room, still filled with utter disbelief. Then panic set in.
Shit. Shit shit shit. What did she see?
He moved fast. His eyes swept across the room, retracing her likely path, trying to figure out exactly how much damage had been done.
First, the corner. The Jangushut contraption. The shattered gem and the tangle of cables and metal components were still sitting where he had left them. He crouched down and studied the arrangement. Even if she had seen it, would she know what it was? She would recognize a Jangushut, sure, but the rest of it was improvised engineering. Cables, a crude battery, connectors. None of it would mean anything to someone who wasn't savvy to the stuff.
She didn't seem like the technical type. He was probably safe there.
He checked under the bed. Nothing out of place. He checked the desk. The writing utensils were in the same spots. The charcoal smudges were undisturbed. The old notebook was still tucked in his coat where he had put it last night.
Did I drool while I slept? Did I make a stupid face?
He imagined Luthiel staring at him for who knew how long while he slept. The mental image made him physically cringe. He shook the thought away. That wasn't important.
Then he remembered.
He rushed to the shelf near the window and looked at the books. Three spines stared back at him. They were stacked in the right order. They didn't seem moved at first glance.
But Grub could tell. The position was slightly shifted. A fraction of an inch to the left. The kind of difference only someone who had placed them deliberately would notice. He pulled them off the shelf and examined them. Every single cover bore the same subject.
Mgbaaka Maara.
"Dammit."
She had definitely seen these. He had meant to return them to the library days ago but hadn't gotten around to it. And now Luthiel—who already knew about the bracelet, though Grub didn't know that—had seen three books about the very device strapped to his wrist sitting on his shelf.
This complicated things significantly. Grub set the books back down and pressed his palms against the desk.
The hell was she doing in here? How much did she see?
He wanted to be furious. He really did. But the anger wouldn't come. Not fully. Every time it tried to build, the memory of last night cut through it. Her stammering and flushed crimson eyes. The notebook shoved toward him without eye contact.
H-here, you shithead.
That stupid gift had made it genuinely hard to stay mad at her. Grub sighed heavily and pushed himself off the desk. He'd better get ready.
He grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the washroom down the hall. The inn's bathing area was small and simple—a stone basin fed by a pipe that carried water from somewhere Grub had never bothered to investigate. He stripped down, stepped into the water, and let it settle around him.
The warmth helped. But his mind didn't stop.
Now that today was today, he needed to think carefully about what she was going to ask. How much would he be willing to say? He couldn't reveal the Mgbaaka Maara directly. He couldn't tell her about the Lacerts' orders. He couldn't mention the Dundun Ile or the hidden passage or the fact that he had been crawling through the library's vents two days ago.
But she was going to push. He knew that much. She had been building toward this for days and she wasn't the type to back down once she committed. How much could he give her without giving her everything?
He didn't know. The water flowed slowly around him. He groaned and leaned his head back.
Even though he was supposed to be the one answering questions today, he had questions of his own. About her shifts. About why the village treated her the way it did. About what she actually was or why she cared so much about someone she had only known for a couple of weeks.
He still had no clue how to go about any of this.
Grub finished bathing, dried off, and pulled on his regular clothes. White coat. Notebook in the inner pocket. He checked himself briefly and made sure his sleeves were pulled down, bandages were hidden, and the bracelet tucked out of sight—then stepped outside.
Luthiel was waiting for him. Only she was different now.
Her bangs were swept to the side. Her hair was neatly braided at the front with golden strands catching the morning light. Her eyes—visible, bright, and a gleaming beautiful gold—looked up at him with a warmth that felt completely at odds with the emotionless figure who had been sitting in his room five minutes ago.
She waved her arms excitedly.
"Hi, Mister Grub! Let's get going, shall we?"
Grub stared at her.
The same girl who had broken into his room, watched him sleep, read his private notebook, and interrogated him about its contents was now bouncing on her heels and smiling at him like they were going on a picnic.
He would never understand her.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "Let's go."