She must be where I get that from.
“Bye, Mr. Wilder,” I say, and he eases past us and out the door, letting a crisp breeze in from outside.
When he’s gone, I turn to Mama.
“I’m sorry for not telling you,” she says quickly. “I was just—”
“I’m happy for you,” I say. Then I cross the polished floor and step up behind the counter to pull her into a hug. She smells like flour and sugar, like always, and the scent is comforting as she wraps her arms around me. “I think it’s wonderful.”
The tension goes out of her, and she presses a kiss to my head. “Thank you. I was so nervous...” She lets out a sigh as we part. “I guess we’ll have to see how Lyra takes it.”
“She’ll be happy,” I say as I pull away.
Mama bites her bottom lip. “You really think so?”
“I know so. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
At our feet, Pepper meows, then twines himself around Mama’s legs.
“Oh, you look fantastic,” Mama says, bending to scratch his chin. “Thank you—both of you—for taking him today. It’s already getting busy around here, and it’s only November!”
“Happy to help,” Aric says from where he’s still standing near the door, hands in his pockets.
Quietly, Mama whispers to me, “I like this one.”
But if the little smile on Aric’s face is any indication, he heard her—orc ears and all.
So I whisper back, “I do too.”
But as soon as I say the words, I think about our approaching finals, about the apprenticeship in Faunwood, about the year of distance looming ahead of us—assuming weeven make it that far.
The day was perfect, but underneath it all, I’m afraid something still might crack.
I smile at Aric from across the café and tell myself I’m overthinking things, like usual. That we’re fine—betterthan fine. And I try to convince myself that this fragile feeling is all in my head.
Chapter 41
Poppy
ACROSS THE TABLE FROM ME, Aric stares down at his textbook, his forehead furrowed in concentration, a small crease between his thick brows. We’re seated at our regular table in the library, but the air is colder than usual, even with the fire in the hearth burning bright. The stained glass window that usually shines with golden sunlight swirls with snowflakes, and even through the academy’s thick stone walls, I can feel the bite in the air. Winter has officially arrived, and though I’m trying to convince myself that it’s just the gray weather that has me feeling gloomy, I’m not so sure that’s it.
Aric rubs the back of his neck with one hand, brushing the silver chain he wears, and then lets out a long sigh. Sitting upright, he stretches his arms overhead, then casts his gaze to the window, tracing the snowflakes that tap against the glass. Something about him looks... weary. There are bags under his eyes, and even though he smiled and kissedme when he met me here, he hasn’t cracked a joke all day, and that worries me.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Reaching across the table, I rest my hand atop his, drawing Aric’s gaze away from the snowy window. “You look tired.”
He opens his hand so he can twine his fingers through mine, and a smile pulls his lips up on one side. But the expression doesn’t quite meet his eyes—not like it usually does. And it makes my stomach sink.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about a lot of things.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer. “I’m a good listener, you know.”
His smile gets a little bit brighter. “I do know.” Then the smile dims again, like a candle struggling to stay lit in a drafty corridor. “But it’s nothing. Just been staying up late studying, trying to make sure I can pass my classes.” A ghost of worry crosses his eyes, and he slowly casts his gaze down at the textbook, then pulls his hand from mine so he can turn the page.
“That’s what tutoring’s for,” I say softly, retracting my hand from where it was sitting, empty and alone, on the table between us. “Is there a specific class or topic you’re worried about?”
He lets out whatsoundslike a laugh, but I know him well enough now to know there’s no humor in it. It’s more of a scoff.
“All of them.”
