“Really? I had no idea,” I said as I sat up, wishing my head would stop throbbing. At least he was healed, though, and I cautiously sat on the hearth across from him, recalling that weird batlike image he had had in his dream and wondering if he remembered it. He was in his robe, not surprising me at all. “Sorry,” I said, as he felt his ribs and grimaced. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?” he griped, and I couldn’t help my grin. “Why the hell are you laughing! You think this is funny?”

“No,” I said, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He grumbled under his breath, groaning as he reached for a lump of dirt he then threw onto the fire. The stench of burnt amber grew stronger. “I’m assuming you have a reason to be here,” he said, watching the fire, not me. “Besides wanting to see me in pain.”

I scooted closer, wondering if the room was indeed smaller. There wasn’t the floor space that I remembered, but maybe the new door would account for it. “I need your help. Dali gave me until Friday to settle with Ku’Sox, but I think he’d rather kill me if he gets the chance.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he snarled, hunching into his blanket and looking miserable.

I took a breath. “I can prove Ku’Sox broke my line, but I need—”

He looked at me as my words cut off in guilt. Oh God. They were elven slavers. He wouldn’t help me. What was I doing here?

“What do you need . . . Rachel,” he said suspiciously.

Licking my lips, I tugged my coat closer. It was unusually cold in here. “Ah, I can prove Ku’Sox broke the line by moving all the imbalance at once to the line in the garden and thereby exposing his curse. But I have to keep him off me until someone comes to look, and that won’t happen until I prove I can best him. And to do that, I need help.”

Al didn’t shift, didn’t make a single indication that he heard me. “Black-souled student thinks she can just come anytime she wants,” he grumped, reaching back to scratch his shoulders under his blanket. “Were you in my dream?”

“No,” I said, and then when his black-eyed stare fell on me, I amended, “Yes. Al, I’ve got a workable plan. I need help.”

He sighed, but if it was because I’d seen his dream or that I had a plan he was sure would fail, I didn’t know. “Damn blue butterflies,” he whispered, watching the red sparks drift up the chimney. “They don’t mean anything. Are you hungry?”

What was it with men trying to feed me all the time? “No. Al—”