Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

With the steady beat of time, Lucy lay in bed watching the shadow and light change shape on the ceiling as the night wore on. The streetlight cast an angled yellow beam through the large windows in her loft, while the light of the two moons was soft and cool. Dair slept beside her, their bodies having separated some time earlier, some time before Lucy?s sleeplessness stretched on into the predawn hours.

Dair?s presence was companionable. Lucy had not yet discovered the secret to unlocking her sleep. Neither the nighttime presence of Dair nor Fin had been able to send her to dreamland, but neither had spending the night alone. So she had asked Dair back, his body warming her through the night, even when there was a foot between them in her large bed.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Lucy rolled over to her side. Her apartment with its uncovered windows was just too bright to sleep. So bright, Lucy could see easily into the bathroom, and all the way through to the walk-in closet beyond with its door just barely ajar.

She had known there would be adjustments when she came home. A therapist once told her that any behavior repeated regularly for three months would become a habit and difficult to shake. The therapist meant to encourage the development of healthy habits, of course. But Lucy found herself unable to shake some of the habits she had begun in prison.

Each morning, she wrote down the day of the week on a scrap of paper she kept at bedside so that she could keep track. She hid extra money under her pillow, just in case. She couldn?t seem to eat anything without saving half of it for later. And she never left the apartment.

Still, she couldn?t sleep.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It would get better. She had to believe it would get better.

Lucy slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Dair. She picked up her pillow and a throw blanket, knowing Dair wouldn?t miss the extra warmth, and she moved through the bathroom to the walk-in closet. There, Lucy lay down on the floor, in the dark cocoon of her clothes, and she exhaled. With the door shut, it felt almost like her prison cell.

She closed her eyes, and there, she lay alone until morning, finally drifting to sleep.

?Why if it isn?t my favorite little jailbird.? Isaak Ames crossed the floor of the Main Tent, his arms extended. ?Lucy Mitford. You are a vision.?

Lucy rose, smiling uncertainly as her attorney took her hands in his. ?Isaak--?

?Let me get a look at you.? He extended their arms, connected by their joined hands. ?Beautiful as always.? He closed the space between them bending his head to kiss her cheek.

?It?s good to--?

?How are you enjoying the shows so far?? He loomed over her, his broad chest clothed in an elegantly tailored suit.

?Oh, it?s--?

?Brix in Babel was unusual.? He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice for false confidences. ?Seems like the claws are out about that one, hrm??

?It was interesting--?

?Now, why haven?t you been to see me?? He grinned down at her, as if he were teasing. ?Have you been avoiding me??

?I?ve been--?

?Come by the office.? He looked at her, pressing. ?Monday??

?Alri--?

?We have a lot to talk about.? With their joined hands, he jerked her closer, then lowered his head, his breath hot against her ear. ?A lot to talk about.?

He stared at her, his dark eyes threatening to swallow her whole. Then he released her hands and turned, leaving her staring after him as he stalked away.

?This is the last one.? Lucy stepped out of the bathroom.

Martta looked up from the laundry she had been folding. ?Oh, very pretty, love.? She made a swirling motion with her hand. ?Let?s see the back.?

Lucy did a turn, lifted to her heels so that her housekeeper could imagine her with a little extra height.

?Very pretty.?

?Better than the white one??

?I think the young master will like this one better.?

?What about the pink one??

?Aye, that pink bit was alright, but rather stuffy, I think.?

?Stuffy?? Lucy?s heels sank back to the hardwood floor.

?Aye. Stuffy.? Martta set aside the folded sheet, resting her hands in the laundry basket, and looked at her. ?Miss Lucy, iffin you don?t mind my saying, seems like all the dresses you be picking are keeping you all covered up.?

Lucy frowned. She stepped over to look at her reflection in the large mirror near the door. She smoothed her hands over the lace skirt of her dress. ?My body isn?t how it used to be.?

?You?re slimmer for certain.? Martta agreed. ?But you?re getting healthier by the day. The color?s all back to your cheeks.?

?I?m still bony.? The dress she wore kept her shoulders and collarbones hidden beneath a layer of lace.

Her body was a stranger. She had gone from eating near nothing to eating hearty foods and rich sweets that she never would have eaten before prison. She was too weak for yoga, her teacher insisting that she attend only the beginner?s classes and pass on even the most mildly rigorous poses. Most of her old clothes hung loose and needed to be pinned into place. Her body was a foreign territory. She hadn?t even touched herself since she went to prison.

?You know this--this dress doesn?t even fit right. It?s supposed to be tight, but it just--it just hangs on me.?

?Ask me, I think it?s bounds better the way it fits on you, all loose and soft and sweet.?

?You think??

?I do.?

Lucy nodded and looked at her reflection. Then she sighed. ?It?s good enough.?

?Have you been unhappy with my cooking or the pantry stock??

Lucy sat beside her housekeeper, Martta, on the couch, the older woman taking a break from her duties to have a word with a curious Lucy.

?No.? Lucy shook her head, perplexed. ?Not at all.?

?So you haven?t been finding yourself hungry?? Martta smiled kindly at her, pressing. ?Mayhaps at peculiar times when I be sleeping and you be left alone or with just Master Dair in the house??

Again, Lucy shook her head. ?No. Why??

?Well, I been trying to figure why you been keeping extras here and about.?

?Extras??

?Aye, extras. Little bits of food.?

?Food stashes?? Lucy laughed. ?That must be the boys. Maybe Fin or Ketch.? They?d been staying at the house recently so it wasn?t beyond the realm of imagination. ?Or Dair.?

Martta shook her head. ?No, miss Lucy. I?m afraid it?s not any of the young misters.?

?How do you know??

?Cause I been finding things in your room.? From beside her, Martta opened a small sack and withdrew some things. A half-eaten biscuit wrapped in a cloth napkin. A paper bag of roasted almonds. A couple of small apples. A handful of butter cookies wrapped in wax paper. She lined these up on the coffee table beside them. ?In your closet in particulars.?

Lucy stared at the food items.

?Do you recognize it??

The redhead shook her head. She couldn?t remember doing it. She couldn?t remember hiding anything.

But her eyes welled with tears. She did recognize the items. The biscuit from breakfast just a couple days before. The cookies on a cooling rack in the kitchen.

She didn?t want to think about it. But she knew she?d done it. ?I don?t remember.?

?Aye, I thought mayhaps that might be so.? When she saw Lucy begin to cry, Martta reached towards her shoulder, drawing her in. ?Shush child. Don?t upset yourself.?

Lucy leaned into her motherly housekeeper. She pressed her face against her shoulder and breathed in the mild sweet scent of her talcum powder. Everything had been such a mess recently. Had she been hiding food again? She hadn?t done it since she?d just left prison. The thought that she might be unconsciously doing it again was deeply unsettling.

?You been upset recently, that?s all, child. Don?t you worry yourself.?

?I don?t remember.? Lucy shook her head against Martta?s shoulder. ?I can?t remember.?

?I know, child. I know.?