EMBER’S POV
She checked on me. Twice. In the night. In the room with the tended fire, the room I share with Knox, the room she walked into uninvited last night.
I look at her, and she’s already moved on, fussing with a teapot, completely unbothered, and I tell myself there are a dozen normal explanations and not one of them makes the crawl on the back of my neck lie back down.
I’m still sitting with that when the young nervous maid reaches across to set down a dish and catches the edge of Hale’s tray with her sleeve, and one of the muffins tips, and rolls, and drops onto the floor with a soft thud.
The room changes temperature.
“Oh, you stupid—” Hale’s voice comes out fast and low and absolutely nothing like the cooing thing she’s been using on me all morning, and her hand shoots out
