Chapter 21: The Gate Registers

Torsten's POV

At eleven on Christmas night, I was in the guard hall with my arm in a sling, watching a screen with nothing on it.

The monitors showed the drive, the gate and the black shell of the guesthouse under a flat white floodlight.

The new guard had gone to bed.

I didn't have a post anymore.

I had no pay, no badge and no uniform, and I was sitting in a chair I used to own, because I couldn't make myself go back to the hotel.

The door opened behind me.

I knew the footsteps before I turned around.

Kerensa stood in the doorway in a gray sweater, holding a first aid kit.

"The housekeeper told me you wouldn't take a painkiller," she said.

"I'm fine."

"You're a bad liar."

She came in and set the kit on the desk.

She pulled my chair around with her foot, sat on the desk in front of me and unwound the sling.

She was careful.

The burn ran from my wrist almost to the elbow, red and shining.

She didn't flinch.

She cleaned it with cool water and a gauze pad, and she held my hand in her lap while she did it.

I watched her face.

The floodlight made it pale and sharp, and she was biting the inside of her lip.

"You went in after Ingrid," she said.

"Yes."

"You hate her."

"I don't hate her," I said.

"She was going into a burning building for a shoebox of your report cards. I wasn't going to stand there."

She stopped with the gauze in her fingers.

"I'll say it plainly," I said.

"I'd walk into anything for you. I'd do it again tomorrow with the other arm. You don't have to like that. I'm telling you so you know."

"Torsten."

"I wanted to say it in a room where you could leave."

"I don't want to leave."

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