Page 68 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

Still, no answer, before he abruptly stands, turning on his heel and walking through the door itself.

Chloe breathes out, raising an eyebrow.

“I am right,” she mutters, before she flops back onto the bed.

17

Sleep evades her still, drowsiness threatening to overwhelm her but never taking her fully under, stranding her in the half-awake state of discomfort. She’s not alert, very few people would be after laying on a bed staring at nothing for hours, but she’s stubbornly…not asleep.

It’s awful.

She could reach out to Alette, see how long the sleeplessness kept around. Maison didn’t complain about anything, but then again, she’s not sure she’s ever complained, even with all the shit he’s had in his life, but something stops her from texting to ask. That there is some reason to not reveal to them about the weakness, about the side effect she’s experiencing.

Which is pretty ridiculous.

But the silence and the emptiness of the room stretches on, blurring the hours into boredom, until the faintest click of the door pulls her back to awareness.

She blinks her eyes back open into slits but remains still on the bed. There’s a pebble and a battery in her pocket, she can do a lot with that, resting her hand over her clothes.

The light doesn’t change.

Inhaling, she sits up as quietly as she can, the blankets pooling around her, before the door clicks again, and Killian steps inside, not even bothering to open the door.

He pauses, as if she caught him doing something he shouldn’t, and they stare at each other for a long second, before Chloe rubs her eyes to clear them.

“You weren’t actually sleeping,” he says, guarded.

“Nope,” Chloe says, then clears her throat, feeling about as disoriented as if she did take a nap.

Some people can nap without issue, and Chloe isn’t one of them on a good day.

“You should,” he says, still cautious.

“Probably,” Chloe agrees, then stretches, popping her back.

He skirts his way inside, like she’s about to attack him, as if the power balance wasn’t massively tilted in his favor by his very existence.

It’s moments like this that Chloe hates. Where the insecurity of if she should apologize, if she should demand an answer to her question, all roils up underneath her thoughts.

And he’s silent, checking on the runes. They’re the exact same strength as they were, even the weakest of runes don’t degrade that fast, but still, he’s obsessive, pausing by each one and checking, laying a finger on it and getting some feedback she could only dream of.

The quiet stretches, enveloping her just as much as any flex of power would.

“What I should do is eat,” Chloe says finally, and he quirks an eyebrow at her words, not fully looking at her. “Is room service safe? Does this place even have room service?”

“Doubt it,” he says, just as wary, as if he’s not trusting the brief peace among them. “I saw the kitchens, they didn’t look up to food safety standards.”

“You know food safety standards?” Chloe asks, honestly curious, and gets the barest glimpses in return. “You don’t eat human food, why would you look at that?”

He mumbles something, too quiet for her to catch.

“What?” Chloe asks, and this nonsense conversation has her more alert from the not-nap than anything probably ever has.

“It’s for…the child,” he says, begrudgingly. “Her father kept her in a horrid house with a horrid kitchen that wasn’t ever cleaned.”

“Ew,” Chloe says helpfully, before swinging her way up to standing.

“I made sure her school’s cafeteria was up to standards,” he says, almost defensive, which is strangely charming. “And her mother doesn’t have a kitchen, just a microwave.”

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