He nods, like he understands it personally, and there's something in the way he holds himself, slightly forward, slightly open, that reads like someone who wants me to keep going. I know I shouldn't. I know that Nico Rossi sat in the chapel and watched them interrogate me and said nothing. But I'm exhausted and cold and I haven't had anyone sit next to me in the dark without wanting something from me in longer than I can remember.
"I don't know what I am here," I say finally. "I don't know what the rules are or who I can trust or what I'm supposed to do with any of it. And every time I think I've got my footing, something else happens."
"I know." He says it simply, and doesn't try to fix it or explain it away.
"You don't, actually," I say. "You have a pack. You have a place in this school. You walked in on day one knowing exactly what you were and who you were and what that meant. That's not the same."
He's quiet for a moment. "You're right. It's not." He glances down at his hands. "But I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of because the people around you expect it. Because the alternative feels impossible."
I don't respond to that. It sounds like the beginning of an explanation and I'm not sure I'm ready to hear one.
"I can help you," he says after a moment. "If you'd let me. There are people in this school who aren't what they appear. People who might be willing to help someone like you, but they won't come forward while you're isolated. While you look like a liability."
"So I need protection to get protection."
"Something like that." He stands slowly and looks down at me with that expression I still haven't been able to categorize. "I'm not asking you to trust me tonight. I know I haven't earned that. I'm just asking you to know the offer is there."
He climbs the stairs and disappears through the door, and I'm alone in the cold stairwell.
I don't know if what just happened was real or another move in a game I don't understand the rules of. I don't know if his regret is genuine or performed and I'm too tired to work out the difference tonight.
What I know is that I said enough. More than I should have, probably. Not the things that matter most, not the things that would truly expose me, but enough that if Nico Rossi is still playing both sides, he has something to work with.
I sit there for a long time before I make myself go upstairs.
Chapter Nine
The next morning he's at breakfast again.
This time he brings Lily into the conversation, asks her about her mathematics project. She lights up talking about probability theory and betting pools and the Hiccup Incident. I watch them talk and something in my chest unknots slightly, the first moment in days where the isolation feels less absolute.
When Lily excuses herself to get more coffee, Nico looks at me.
"She's good for you," he says.
"I know."
"You're lucky to have someone who doesn't care about pack politics."
"I know that too."
He nods and goes back to his eggs. I realize I'm staring at his hands, the way his fingers curl around his fork. I look away before he catches me doing it.
That afternoon there's thunder.
I'm walking back from the library when the first rumble rolls across the sky, low and deep enough to feel in my chest. The air smells like rain and ozone and something wild. I pick up my pace because being caught outside in a storm at Everpine feels unwise.
I'm crossing the quad when I hear footsteps behind me.
"Nova, wait."
I turn. Nico is jogging to catch up, his jacket pulled up against the wind that's started whipping through the courtyard.
"Storm's coming," I say.
"I know. I wanted to show you something before it hits."
"Show me what?"
