Chapter 11: Ninety-Nine

Morwenna's POV

I did not let go of him until we were through the door of the Drift.

Nobody in the street had spoken as we walked away.

Bess waited on the walkway with a blanket.

She took one look at us and went to put the kettle on, very loudly.

The guards stayed outside.

The door closed.

Lorcan stood in the middle of the kitchen in his torn coat.

His eight arms hung down, and he did not seem to know where to put any of them.

"You came to the gate," I said.

"I came to say two things."

"Say them."

He took a breath.

"I'm sorry about the word. I should have shown you the paper before you ever saw it."

His skin had gone a pale, anxious grey.

"And the door is open. It will be open tomorrow. If you want to go back to Tristram's house, I will walk you there and not argue."

"I know."

"I need you to be sure of that."

"I'm sure," I said. "That's why I came back through it."

He stared at me.

"I walked out of this kitchen last night because I was angry. I walked back in this morning. Nobody pushed me."

His arms moved a little, uncertain.

"I stepped across the line at the fair, too," I said. "Nobody sold me. I chose."

"Morwenna."

"Ninety-eight doesn't need a door."

I had meant it as a joke, and it came out soft.

His face crumpled.

He laughed, a short, broken sound, and then I was kissing him.

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