“I’ll let you live.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I was thanking him, but I figured it was safer to keep things friendly. Better not to poke the bear—or whatever Reed was.
He stood and ambled over to the sofa, a single-seater so extravagant it could’ve passed for a throne in some gaudy palace. He sank into it, letting the cushions swallow him, and propped a hand lazily on the armrest.
“So, Ailette.”
“Yeah?”
“My two hours—I’m leaving them in your hands.”
For some reason, he’d stolen the line I felt should’ve been mine. Then, without another word, he closed his eyes. Soon, his breathing evened out, soft and steady, like a tide pulling back from the shore.
Is he asleep?
“Probably,” I muttered. “Gotta sleep to dream, right?”
A faint chime rang in my mind, followed by the familiar voices of the system.
[‘The Observer of Secrets’ remarks that, despite his…