The next morning, the filtered, greenish light that passed for morning in the Deep crawled across the floor of the Pearl Wing.
Roxy didn't move, even if she had already woken up.
She was still in the Dry Lounge, curled up on the chaise under the blanket Caspian had tucked around her. She was awake, but barely.
Her eyes were open, fixed on the translucent membrane that separated her air pocket from the millions of tons of ocean outside.
A school of small fish swam past the window. One of them, curious about the strange creature behind the barrier, tapped its nose against the glass.
Roxy lifted a hand, pressing her palm against the cold surface. The fish mimicked the movement, hovering near her fingers.
Usually, she would have smiled. She would have named it something silly like "Sparky" and called Caspian over to look.
Today, she was not in the mood. She traced the path of the fish with her finger, her eyes dull and lifeless.
Caspian didn't come.
