Noel sat up at six fifty-three.
He knew the time because he had been watching the clock on the wall since somewhere around three in the morning, when sleep had refused to come while he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling and thought about Rowan.
'Where is he right now?'
'Has he eaten?'
'Is it cold wherever he's going?'
He pressed both hands against his face.
He lay like that for a moment.
Then he dropped his hands, sat up, and said it out loud to the empty room — quietly.
"Stop thinking about Rowan. Focus on yourself. Work hard, impress your father, get the money, and leave."
He sat with it for a second.
Then he got up.
.
He bathed alone.
No maids. No morning dew water they brought in a shallow ceramic bowl every day without being asked. He washed his face at the basin with plain cold water and dried it himself and stood in front of the mirror with water still on his collar.
He looked at his reflection.
