EMBER’S POV
We follow, because we’re only human, and we catch it from the doorway of the sitting room — Queenie on the sofa with her tablet, and Nathaniel standing in front of her, holding out a single glass of water like it’s a diamond ring, his whole body rigid with the terror of a man who has faced down feral wolves and never once looked this scared.
“I brought you water,” he says.
Queenie looks up.
She looks at the glass. She looks at him. She looks at the glass again.
And the expression that moves across her face — I will treasure it forever — is the specific, profound incredulity of a woman who has just watched the man she married attempt to win back a decade of love with a beverage.
“…Water,” she says.
“You were — I noticed you didn’t have—” He falters. The machine has no sub
