He placed the tray on the small table in the corner, and they fell on their portions with urgency, even though the meat was tough, the noodles soft, and the sauce too salty.

“It’s true,” he said, sitting back and wiping his mouth. “Asa has ordered his soldiers to bring pretty girls to the palace. He’s taking his own Graces, as many as he wants. He isn’t going through the magistrates, and they’re angry.”

The food curdled in Nomi’s stomach. “What about your father’s Graces? And Cassia?”

Malachi bent forward, staring at his empty bowl. “No one seems to know what happened to them.”

Nomi pushed the tray of food away, her appetite gone. What had happened to her handmaiden, Angeline? Was she still in the palazzo, helping one of these new Graces? What about Rosario? Ines?

Malachi grabbed the roll from the edge of her plate and stuffed it into their bag. He poured the jug of water into one of their flagons, and then set the dirty dishes outside their door.

Outside, the sun had disappeared, ushering in the dark. Inside, the lamplight flickered golden on his skin.

“The public carriage will be here at daybreak,” Malachi said. “We should try to sleep.”

Nomi excused herself to use the washroom at the end of the hall, hurrying back when she heard male voices eddying up the stairs.

When she returned to the room, she took off her boots and pointed her toes, stretching her tired calves. She paused beside the bed. Wrought-iron frame, pushed up against one wall. Suddenly, she had flashbacks to Malachi’s chambers in the palazzo, to that big white bed. She blushed.

As if reading her mind, Malachi said, “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor by the door.” He bent to examine its lock. She stared at his back.

“You don’t have to,” she said softly, her heart hammering in her throat.

He turned around, his eyes a question.

“I just… I just mean the bed is big enough for us both.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry as sand, and a rash of red heated her cheeks. “You’re still injured and we both need sleep.”

He took a step closer, and Nomi fought the sudden, strange impulse to run her hands up his arms. Quickly, she turned away. “It’s fine. Whatever you think is safest. I—I’m very tired. Good night.”

She scrambled under the sheet and curled into herself, closing her eyes tightly.

A few moments later, the glow of lamplight disappeared, dousing her in darkness. Another pause. Despite herself, she craned to hear. Was he lying on the floor? Was he standing over her?

The bed creaked, the hard mattress giving. The sheets whispered as Malachi stretched out. He sighed. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Compared to a ship’s deck and a cracked marble floor, this bed is a dream.”