Chapter 5: The Suppression Sigil's Terms

The smell of something cooking was what woke him.

Not anything dramatic — eggs, probably, and the particular scorched-butter note that meant someone had let the pan run too hot and was managing the consequences. Evander lay still for a moment listening to the small sounds of someone else navigating his kitchen: the second drawer from the left that stuck and required lifting, the particular pitch of the kettle when it was only half-filled. She had found things without asking. He was not surprised.

He got up, pulled on the clothes from yesterday, and stood in the doorway.