ELEVEN

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I CAN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT -- OR WHAT'S LEFT OF IT, ANYWAY

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I CAN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT -- OR WHAT'S LEFT OF IT, ANYWAY.

Rowena and I walked back to the house in silence. Even if she had been able to speak, I figure she would've left me to my thoughts.

I couldn't help but wonder how she'd ended up falling in with that crowd. Or what had happened to her before she came to this house.

Did Mistress know she was a goldblood, a demigod, like me? If so, then she'd been keeping it a secret from me all these years. Or perhaps this was the Mistress's definition of freedom -- a life of servitude in the house of a cruel human man who literally silenced his servants?

Either way, it looked like the next time I spoke to the Mistress, there would be questions she had to answer.

An hour before dawn breaks, I throw the covers up, giving up on sleep. I head to the garden, the last of the moonlight dying all the plants a silvery-blue. On the horizon, I can see the faintest of yellow linings.

I perch on the edge of a stone fountain, the water trickling gently behind me as I watch the sun rise.

I hear him before I see him. Clumsy humans, they can't ever hide the sound of their approach.

"You're up early," the son says as he takes a seat next to me. "I saw you from the piano room."

I give him a coy smile, not bothering to correct his assumption. "Playing piano?"

"No, just doing some thinking," he says, hesitating for a second. "Can I ask you something?"

I look down at my lap, fingers ticking impatiently against the fabric of my servant dress. I meet his eyes slowly, peering at him from beneath my eyelashes. "You always can," I say.

"The gods. They aren't real, are they?"

I almost look up sharply, but I manage to keep my head down. I'm not sure what he wants for me to say, so I stay silent.

He takes my silence as a cue to continue speaking. "I spoke with my father last night. Told him about the hylogrifs and the gods. He said I was foolish. Wasting my time."

I stay silent still. For once, I want to tell Bran he did something right. Getting his son to stop sniffing around the legends of the island will make my life so much easier from here on out. Playing research assistant was getting tired. And effective way of poisoning him for sure, since I would have easy access. But it wasn't like I needed the help getting to him.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time. You must have wanted to say anything to get me off your case."

He's apologizing?

Now, that's a surprise. Didn't think his kind were the type to ever admit wrong.

I give the slightest of a nod. Not a lie. It was a way of handling him in the meantime.

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