I got my pillow back after dinner. It was the most important development of the day, and the child disagreed with it.
She had both arms around Dream Haven and the expression of someone who had recently escaped a cellar and now considered ownership a flexible idea. I stood beside the bed. She stared at me, and I stared at her. Saera watched from the window.
"You're fifteen," she said.
"I know."
"She is six."
"I can see that."
The child tightened her grip.
"That feels irrelevant," I said.
The corner of Saera's mouth moved. I had learned what that meant: she was enjoying this.
"I lent it to her," I said.
"You expanded it for her."
"Temporarily."
"She has slept on it twice."
"That doesn't establish legal ownership."
Saera glanced at the door. "Shall we call the magistrate?"
I looked at her. She was definitely enjoying this. The child pressed her face into Dream Haven, and I sighed.
"She can use it until I leave."
