After we’ve cleaned quickly at the dry sink, Cleo stuffs us with food. Warm bread and a potato stew so flavorful I moan through half the meal. When we’ve had our fill, Cleo tells us to get some shuteye. “Lots to do tomorrow. I’ll show you around, teach you the ropes.” She pulls a tie near the low ceiling, and a blanket that had been rolled and secured there unfurls, separating the sleeping mats from the rest of the space. From the sound of it, she’s clearing the dishes before she joins us.

The mats look terribly close. Asher’s already collapsed on the middle one, so no matter which I pick, I’ll be beside him, our bodies just a palm’s width apart. We already slept curled together that night in Burning Ground, but this feels different. There will be walls around us, for one.

“Did you stay here last time?” I ask as I sprawl out on the mat.

Asher shakes his head. “At Saph’s.”

“Right. How could I forget?” I picture a cramped sleeping space like this, Asher and Saph lying so close that their sides are pressed together, and my cheeks get warm.

“Nothing happened between us,” he says again.

“The more you insist that, the less I believe you. Besides, why should I care? You’re a grown man. You’re free to do what you want.”

His brow creases. “I just thought you’d want to know I didn’t do that.”

“It’s none of my business. I just hope you kept your shirt on. Taking it off that time when we were kids didn’t lead to anything good, and I’d’ve thought you learned your lesson.”

Asher looks at me for a long beat, then says, “I remember you being blunt and honest. I don’t remember you being mean.”

He rolls away from me, and I’m left in the darkness, stomach churning in a way that makes me wonder if something was wrong with the stew.

Cleo wakes me at the crack of dawn. At least it feels that way. But Asher’s bed mat is empty, and when I duck beneath the curtain that divides the sleeping area from the rest of the hut and get a view out the lone window, I can tell it’s already past noon.

“You let me sleep in.”

“You’ll thank me for it later. Now eat so I can show you the ropes.” She shoves a biscuit slathered with honey in my direction. My stomach has settled since last night—actually, it’s growling all over again, as if I haven’t eaten in ages.

“Where’s Asher?” I ask through a mouthful of flaky biscuit.

“Already at work. He doesn’t need a tour.”

“Is that your job—giving newcomers tours?”