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I lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, images swirling at the edges of my vision. I was back in Blackthorn, and I had hoped that enough would get me to sleep tonight, but as usual, luck was not on my side. The day had been long, and it had been exhausting. After telling Lord Ashcombe everything, and then explaining it all again to Lord Walsingham, I wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a nap. A long nap. Preferably a few days, where nothing interesting happened and nobody was trying to kill me. I think, after nearly a year of excitement, I was entitled to at least that.
But there was still so much to do.
By the time I was able to crawl into my palliasse behind the counter—I wasn't ready to sleep in Master Benedict's old room, not yet, not so soon—all thoughts of sleep fled my mind. Lord Ashcombe had tried to convince me to remain at Whitehall, at least for the night, but I politely declined. I wanted a moment alone, to rest and remind myself that it was over.
At least, that's what I thought I wanted. After lying there for what felt like hours, tossing until the bedsheets twisted my legs, I huffed and finally sat up. Bridget, who'd been snoozing on the counter, was disturbed awake by my sudden movement and fluttered down into my lap, cooing sleepily.
“Sorry I woke you,” I whispered to the plump pigeon. Now that we had no more threats to worry about, Bridget was able to fly around freely without me wondering about her safety. The moment we'd let her out of Isaac's shop she bolted for the door and didn't return until dusk. I knew she'd return; she always did. She showed me she forgave me by dropping a small leaf into my hands and marching over my arms, pecking at my face.
She'd been sleeping peacefully until I startled her. I felt bad and brushed a pair of fingers down her feathered back in apology. It seemed to help. “I don't know if you can help me sleep, girl. I mean, with The Ra—with Peter gone, I really thought the nightmares would go away. I thought that… I thought everything could go back to normal.” But there no longer was any normal for me, for us. Too much had changed. Too much loss had occurred for anything to be considered normal. I knew that, of course. But telling Bridget my deepest wishes seemed right. “I mean, I haven't slept yet to know if the dreams are done. Maybe they're not. Maybe something else will come to torment me.” After all, peaceful nights have been scarce lately. Who knew what concoctions my mind would cook up?
I frowned, lost in thought, and Bridget pecked at my fingers when I stopped petting her. If I thought about it, I knew what was keeping me up. Maybe I should've stayed at Whitehall, after all. I thought I could handle being alone—I'd told Ashcombe as much—but the silence pressed too hard, my body felt simultaneously too big and too small, and the emptiness of the shop yawned around me, darkness lurking in every corner.
Clearly, I wasn't going to sleep tonight. If I kept it up, I'd eventually collapse from exhaustion. At least then I would have to rest. Sighing, I reached for the candle I'd set on the counter before going to bed. If I wasn't going to sleep, I could at least be productive and sort through some of Master Benedict's old books—
A thump at the door startled me into nearly dropping the candle. Immediately, I reached for the pistols in my sash set next to my pillow, the handles slipping easily into my hands. Had someone already come to kill me?
Not quite, my old master said, his voice wry like he was smiling. Listen carefully.
Whoever was at my door was trying to be quiet, but ended up making quite a bit of noise. Most assassins would be much more careful. That still didn't rule out a sloppy one, but…
“Christopher!” A familiar voice hissed from the other side of the door, and my grip slipped on the guns in relief. It wasn't an assassin after all. “Let me in!”
I stumbled in my haste to make it to the door. When it finally swung open, revealing a very mischievous-looking Tom, his eyes darting about like he wasn't supposed to be here, I couldn't help a grin from spreading over my face.
“You shouldn't be here,” I pointed out, smiling hard. I didn't even object as he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug—the moment Tom realized exactly how strong he was would be a day his fellow knights would never forget—and I didn't let go until he pulled away. “Everything all right?”
Tom frowned at me. “I didn't wake you, did I?” He seemed nervous, like the possibility of pulling me from my much-needed rest was one he didn't want to fathom.
“No,” I said as casually as I could. It had to be sometime after midnight. “But… Tom, why are you here? Did something happen?”
His eyes widened. “No! No, nothing like that.” Then his face reddened. “I couldn't sleep,” he muttered under his breath. “Not until… well. I'm here now.” Then he grinned, but it wasn't his usual wide smile. Something was troubling Tom. “I might as well stay over.”
I glanced at him for a moment, but when he didn't elaborate further, I shrugged and waved a hand. “There's plenty of floor to choose fro—what are you doing?”
He'd gone around the counter and began pulling my palliasse out from behind it. “There isn't room for both of us back there,” he explained, bringing my bed into the center of the room. “I can't see you from out here. You're hidden.”
“That's the point.” So that anybody peeking in from the outside didn't see the apprentice sleeping in the shop. But Tom didn't listen. He didn't look at me at all until he'd finished rearranging my palliasse in the center of the room. “We can't both fit on it,” I said, obviously. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“The floor,” he said, also obviously. His eyes lit up. “It'll be fun! Like a sleepover.”
Master Benedict liked Tom well enough, but he'd never allowed one or the other of us to stay at each other's houses overnight. As an apprentice, I needed to stay in the shop each night, and Tom had to go home to his family. We'd slept in the same room plenty of times over the past year—we had literally shared a tiny closet at Whitehall for over a month—but this still felt strange. Thrilling. Like getting away with something you weren't supposed to be doing.
Can we? I asked, though I didn't need permission anymore.
Master Benedict smiled. As you wish, my child.
Tom breathed quietly beside me in the dark. This time, I was on my side, my view centered on his silhouette, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The floor couldn’t have been comfortable, but he didn't seem to mind. A few moments after laying down, his breathing evened out, and he hadn't moved since. I remembered when he had been so upset to sleep on the floor in Paris and smiled. That seemed like worlds away now.
Strangely enough, after Tom arrived, I'd begun to feel drowsy too. Like the sleep I'd been chasing finally allowed me to catch up to it now that Tom was here to protect me. No, that Tom was here—seeing him safe and whole meant that everything was all right.
I thought back to that morning and quickly pushed it from my mind. I'd have plenty of time to play through those events later. For now, it was time to rest. With Sally safe at Berkshire House and Tom safe with me, I felt a peace I hadn't felt in a long time.
This was far from normal. But maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world.
I couldn't go back to the way things were before. But maybe, just maybe, we could make a new normal. Master Benedict would always be in my heart. It was time to make him proud.