Chapter Fourteen
After twelve hours, Fier, attending to her as he’d done for weeks, led Delila away from her cubicle. Unlike all the other days however, this time he didn’t take her back to her room and the empty rest her bed would give, but took her instead to Degas who was sitting back in his old chair with his feet up on the desk so that Delila could see the mud caked about his boots.
He sat up and looked at her officially, when he saw her enter, and Fier leave her. She couldn’t remember how many days it had been she’d laid eyes on his face. They had been moving in different circles even as Degas was taking care of his kingdom.
“You’re looking well,” Degas said.
“I am,” she replied.
He smiled, though the nature of his smile was undisclosed; it was a gentle smirk, as if he had some
