“Forget you saw that one,” he said.

“Was that published here?” We were specifically forbidden books published outside of our territory. A special publishing house, managed by Clayskin diplomats, operated at Hannibal for the sole purpose of providing us with approved literature.

“It was published in the Northridge several years ago. I received it as a gift. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to study.”

I ignored his hint that I should leave. Pausing for a moment, I pasted a Covington-like smirk on my mouth and attempted a new tactic. “Obi! Don’t tell me you’re going to study all night?”

He ignored me.

I kept one eye on the book he was so protective of and tried again. “Well, there’s a party later on—if you’re interested.”

He said nothing.

“Oh, come on… you.” I winced, I still didn’t know his name. “No one is working tonight.”

He flipped a page. “Wrong again, Cobane. While your kind are on Break, Windy and her kind are working. No weekends, no parties, no Breaks.”

I opened my mouth to argue—then I shut it. He was right. My gut jerked guiltily, making my supper rise in my throat. I found his wastebasket just in time to empty my stomach. No weekends, no parties, no Breaks. My mind conjured a picture of Robin and her baby. I couldn’t bring myself to think of the child’s name.

The Vine Keeper’s gaze burned the side of my face as I cleared my mouth into the trash. I wiped a hand across my cheek. “Stop it! You’re staring.”

He opened a drawer of his desk and handed me a skin of water. I eyed it suspiciously—then took it. I gulped it down.

“Easy, or you’ll make yourself sick again.”

I finished the water in smaller sips.

“Do you need to lie down?”

I shook my head, but grimaced. “My mouth tastes awful.”

He opened his desk drawer and took out a trio of ridged leaves. “Chew this.”

“What is it?”

“Eat them, Cobane.”

I looked at the leaves, sensing he was testing me again. If I ate them, I trusted him and he could trust me. I ate the leaves. A sweet mint flavor burst in my mouth. “They’re delicious.”

He nodded.

I took my time chewing. “You weren’t going to complain about Windy, were you?”

He shook his head. “I was going to diagnose her.” He picked up the book he’d been reading and sat beside me on the floor. He set half of the volume in my lap, and flipped to a page he’d marked. He tapped at a paragraph in the middle. “Read it,” he said.