There’s a massive stone fireplace against one wall, but it’s full of warm light, not fire. It’s obvious that Nouria-Castle’s daughter and the head of this resistance-is really into light. I know I should leave, get some sleep, but I can’t make myself abandon the warm glow of this room for the cold loneliness of my tent.

When I’m feeling really sorry for myself, I hate him more than usual. Warner and Juliette (Ella? Still feels weird) are here somewhere, but that’s probably because she’s trying to force-feed him his own birthday cake. Nearly everyone is bailing, chairs scraping, feet shuffling, doors opening and closing. It’s late-long past midnight-and my reasons for being here are growing more tenuous by the minute. This place feels newer, cleaner, and brighter than anything we had at Omega Point. The tables are pieced together with unfinished slabs of wood made smooth by time. I hope they serve some kind of practical purpose, because otherwise it seems dumb. I don’t know why they bother with the tents. There’s a cream-colored canvas shrouding everything on the outside, but it’s obvious from the interior that this is a solid, freestanding building. I squint up at the long, whitewashed wooden beams supporting the ceiling. I take a glance around the half-empty dining hall. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, hunched over an unfinished slice of cake. I try to breathe it out, try to stretch the stress out of my muscles, but nothing helps. Tension gathers in my shoulders, knotting together to generate dull, throbbing pain that branches across my back. But somehow this feels like a new kind of hell. Slowly, I drag my free hand down my face. I never meant to disfigure an innocent piece of cake-it’s downright criminal to waste food, especially cake-but there’s something soothing about the repetitive motion and the soft, gentle resistance of the vanilla sponge. I keep tapping the cake with the tines of my fork, each time a little harder, and now it’s half-collapsed and the frosting is scarred.

I don’t think I’ve ever lost my appetite.īut I’m staring at a perfectly good piece of cake right now, and for some reason, I can’t eat it.

Tahereh mafi reveal me