Thomas swung it open, Khalila stood on the other side. She glanced quickly at them both and said, “We have to attend dinner now. I don’t think they gave us a choice.”
“See?” Thomas said to Jess. “So it begins. The little deaths of freedom.”
They stepped out into the hall. Khalila stood quite alone, and Jess wasn’t sure if her arms were simply crossed or if she was hugging herself for comfort. He knew what she was thinking and feeling, because he’d felt it himself when Morgan had been taken away. At least he’d known where she was and who’d taken her.
Dario was just . . . gone. Vanished. And there was no way to know if he was alive, free, imprisoned, dead. All Khalila could do was hope . . . and hope was difficult, knowing what they all knew about the Library now. He’s a smart one, Jess told himself again. Connections, money, friends . . . he’ll be all right. He wanted to say that to Khalila but knew how useless it would sound.
When she looked up and saw him, she forced a smile and said, “I was just thinking about my family.”
That stopped him. Why had he just assumed she’d be pining uselessly after Dario? Was it because he was so caught up in his own thoughts of Morgan? “Your family?” He knew he sounded surprised. “Why? Are they all right?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve betrayed everything they believe in. Worse than that, I’ve so many Scholars in the family. Will they be all right, Jess? Do you think the Library will punish them for what I’ve done?”
“No,” he said. “Of course not.”
“I hope not.” The desolation in her voice hurt. He remembered her proud uncle, escorting her on the train to Alexandria, and the constant messages she’d received from her father and mother and siblings and cousins. Khalila’s life was full of love, and the decisions she’d made may have cut her off from that love. Would she have done that if he hadn’t come to her with his mad speculations and schemes?
Another knife cut of guilt slicing a piece of his heart away. He had no answers for her, nothing but a whispered, “I’m sorry,” which was no comfort. He wished she had been thinking of Dario. It would have been a simpler subject, an easier answer. This cut to the core of who Khalila was.
She made the choice, some part of him said, but he hated that he thought it. Of course she had. That didn’t make it all right. In some ways, it only made it worse.
While Jess stood helpless, Thomas walked directly to Khalila and wrapped her in a hug that lifted her off her feet. After a second of surprise, she put her arms around him—as far as they would stretch—and put her head on his broad shoulder.
“I would be dead if not for you,” he told her. “I would be dead to everything and everyone I knew if you hadn’t come for me. All of you. Don’t think I will ever forget what you’ve done for me.”
“I had to,” she said. “I was glad to.”
“Even so,” he said. “If you lose your family, I will be your family. Always.”
She took a deep breath and said, “Thank you. Now put me down, you lumbering bear.”
He laughed a little and put her back on her feet. “Sorry. It’s like picking up a tiny bird. You should eat more.”
“So should you,” she said. Her smile was back. So was the light in her eyes. It’s remarkable, Jess thought, that Thomas can do that. He had so much light inside him that it warmed those around him. “Will you be my escort to dinner?”
“I will,” Thomas said gravely, and offered her his arm, like an ancient country gentleman. She put her hand lightly on it.
Jess was laughing at them, but it stopped quickly as Morgan opened the door of his room and their eyes met. He nodded to her warily. She nodded back. Her eyes looked red and swollen, but there were no tears now. And no forgiveness, either.
He was still considering what to say to her when the door to Wolfe and Santi’s room opened and the two men stepped out. Wolfe gave them all a dour glance and said, “What are you waiting for?” as he pushed past and opened the door at the end of the hallway. Santi followed, and then Khalila and Thomas.
Jess cleared his throat and gestured, and