Page 107 of Carousel

I collapse back onto the pillow, covering my face with my hands. It’s stupid, but I actually think I might start crying.

Cosmer lowers himself down to me.

“Ara. It’s going to be okay.”

“They’re going to torture me.”

“I know. I wish I could stop it. I’ve been wracking my brains. But I don’t know how.”

Gradually, he slides a hand under me, shifting me until I’m sheltered again in his arms. I don’t resist. Just rest my head in the crook of his neck.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, to his shoulder. “And I hate feeling like this. I want to be stronger than this.”

He strokes my hair. “Who said being scared meant you aren’t strong?”

I don’t answer.

Seconds pass, and then he says, with resolve, “I’ll come with you. I’ll bring a gun. And I’ll stay with you the whole time. We’ll see what they plan to do to you. And if it's anything we don’t like… Well. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

I grasp him tighter. “Cosmer,” I say, my eyes welling up. “That’s… Thank you.”

But there are flaws. So many flaws.

“What about Drake?”

“Fuck him,” he says, bland.

I wave my hand. “The rules?”

“Fuck them, too. For now.”

Then, he holds out his palm. My ribbon. I thought it had been lost in the bed after… events began.

He opens up my own hand and places it inside. Closes my fingers around it.

“And you can have this back.” He smiles. “Since now I have the real thing to look at.”

We’re last in the Mess Hall for breakfast. We join the end of the queue, but as most people have been served, it only takes a minute. I hand the bowl I’m given straight to Cosmer. We reach Drake and Riss, standing awkwardly by a wall.

Drake’s posture is rigid, and his face is murderous. I keep my distance and my eyes averted, worried he might smell what transpired between Cosmer and I last night on me. See my betrayal on my face.

I hate that I’ve let him down. I fold my arms, my insides writhing, and try to look anywhere but at him, even though his eyes remain firmly on me.

Riss’ expression isn’t sunny either. She’s holding out her pocket watch.

“What time do you call this?”

“We got held up,” Cosmer tells her. “A message came in for Ara. She has corrective instruction later.”

Riss’ scowl deepens. “Why is Dezeeves sending you messages for Ara, and not me?”

“He must know she… sleeps with me.”

I blush and cast a nervous look around. How obvious are we being? This feels so dangerous.

“And, about that,” Cosmer continues. He looks right at me. “I’m proposing a keeper switch.”

“What?” Riss yells.