“So, this was a message.” I paused. “To us. The Harbinger killed Greene and brought him to a place we’d just been, and the demon has to be working with it.”

“I know where you’re going with this thought. That it’s possible that either the demon or the Harbinger know who we are—know what you are.”

I rolled onto my side, facing him. Hair fell across my face, but I left it alone, keeping my arms folded between us. “Do you think that?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“That means the Harbinger has the upper hand,” I whispered. “A very big upper hand.”

“It’s an upper hand, but that just means we need to be more aware,” he said, and I felt him move. “Hold still. My hand is going to come close to your face.”

A heartbeat later, I felt his fingertips brush my cheek. The touch didn’t startle me. He caught the strands of hair and brushed them back, tucking them behind my ear. His fingers lingered, his thumb grazing the line of my cheekbone. After a second, he dropped his hand.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“No problem.”

“I’m only a little jealous of Warden eyesight,” I added. “Then again, if I had fully functioning eyeballs, I’d still be jealous.”

“Yeah, being able to see in the dark does have its benefits,” he said.

Silence fell between us as we lay there, face-to-face. I don’t know why my next thought came to mind, but it did, and for some reason, asking things in the middle of the night wasn’t so hard. “I have a random question.”

“You? Never...”

I smiled. “How often do you do the, uh, deep-sleep thing? You know, the stone-sleeping thing. Misha used—” My chest squeezed as I inhaled sharply. “He used to nap a lot in that form, but I haven’t seen you do it yet.”

“I do it when I need to,” he answered. “Used to grab a couple of hours here and there. Napping like...yeah, like him, if I was feeling worn down or had been injured, but ever since the whole bonding thing, I haven’t had to do it.”

“Oh. That’s kind of interesting.”

“It’s a lot interesting, and I wish I knew why, but unless your father is going to reappear with a Protector handbook, I guess I won’t know.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hold your breath for that.”

“Does it ever...” He exhaled. “The way it is with your father—does it bother you?”

“No one’s ever asked me that,” I said as the realization hit. “Wow. I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“Try,” he said softly.