Not much had happened yesterday. Eryon had cooked dinner the night before and called me over, so I decided to give it a try. The food was okay—not exceptionally good, but not bad either. For his age, I would have actually expected more talent in the kitchen from him, but it was still pretty average.

We sat quietly together and ate. Every now and then he glanced in my direction, as if he wanted to start a conversation, but I remained calm and focused on my plate. It was important to me not to give him the opportunity to learn too much about me.

Although he certainly already knew a...