“Clary, what is it?”
She sucked on her bottom lip for a moment then released it with a pop. “Okay, hear me out. I’ve been thinking that maybe your dream bird might be a portent.”
I stared blankly at her. “A portent?”
“Yes. Rooks are messengers just like ravens.”
“So, you think my sleepwalking is trying to, what? Warn me about something?”
“Maybe?” She shrugged. “Do you fight it? The dream. Do you try to get out of it?”
“Yeah. It feels…awful. Like I’m heading toward something bad.”
“Okay, so try not to fight next time. Let the dream reach its conclusion, and maybe you’ll remember it all.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “I guess it’s worth a try.”
Benedict appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Ana sleepwalked again,” Clary said.
He yawned and scratched his chest through his undershirt. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Go back to bed, both of you.”
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” Dori said from behind them both. Her tousled halo of hair made her look much younger than her twenty-one years.
“I sleepwalked. I’m fine. Go to bed. We have Combat 101 first thing, and I don’t know about you guys, but I need my sleep. Damascus will probably make me run a kazillion laps simply for existing.”
The bastard hadn’t allowed me to learn much of anything the past few weeks, making me run laps and play punching bag when he should have been training me with the others. Thank Trinity for the Unwoven, without them, I’d be clueless about the offensive maneuvers required to take down a basic Horror.
They’d taken turns staying back with me after class and going over the session's combat moves. I was getting handy with a wooden sword, and luckily, the grading wasn’t happening for another week, so it would take placeafterI had more access to the Weave, which should provide me with some protection and?—
Dori, Benedict, and Clary exchanged pointed looks in silent communication.
I sighed. “Care to clue me in?”
Dori spoke on their behalf. “You never did tell us why Damascus hates you.”
“It’s late,” Clary said. “We understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but?—”
“We want to know,” Benedict said bluntly.
The thought of telling them no longer felt overwhelming; in fact, Iwantedto tell them. It was time they knew what happened, and if they thought I was a horrible person, then so be it. In fact…it might be best if theydidthink badly of me. It might slow the momentum of this burgeoning dynamic between us, which was becoming harder and harder to reconcile with my goal.
I blew out a breath. “Okay, so…he hates me because… Because I accidentally killed his sister.”
Silence reigned for several seconds before Benedict broke it.
“And now I’m wide awake,” he said.
The trio filed inside and closed the door, taking seats around the room.
I sat up against the headboard and crossed my legs. “It was the summer I turned twelve…”
* * *
I joggedpast Clary and Dori for the umpteenth time. How many laps was that now? I’d lost track.
