“Your hands are scratchy,”I’d say when she cupped one around my cheek.
“They’re fire-holders’ hands,”she’d say.“Flame throwers’.”
My mother’s hands scuffing my cheek. Tucking my hair behind my ears.
My mother’s hands held aloft—setting the air of the nursery on fire while a chalk-skinned monster buried his teeth in my throat.
“Baz…” Snow says. He’s picked up the book and is holding it out to me.
I take it.
“I need to tell you something,” he says.
“What?” Since when do Snow and I have anything to tell each other?
“I need to talk to you.”
I raise my chin. “Talk, then.”
“Not here.” He sheathes his blade. “We’re not supposed to be here, and… what I have to tell you is sort of private.”
For a moment—not even a moment, a split second—I imagine him saying,“The truth is, I’m desperately attracted to you.”And then I imagine myself spitting in his face. And then I imagine licking it off his cheek and kissing him. (Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone.)
I“Make a wish!”the flame out of my hand, tuck the photo into the book, and the book under my arm. “Lucky for us,” I say, “we have our own suite at the top of a turret. Private enough for you?”
He nods, embarrassed, and gestures for me to walk ahead of him. “Just come on,” he says.
I do.
39
SIMON
I’d just caught my enemy red-handed, breaking into the Mage’s office. I could have got him expelled for this.Finally.
And instead I gave him the thing he came to steal, then asked him if we could have some alone time—all because of a baby picture.
But the look on Baz’s face in that picture… Smiling just because he was happy, with cheeks like red apples.
And the look on his face when he saw it. Like someone blew a horn and all his walls crumbled.
We walk back to our room, and it’s awkward; we don’t have any experience walking with each other, even though we’re usually headed in the same direction. We keep our distance on the stairs, then move even farther away as we cross the courtyards. I keep wanting to get my sword back out.
Baz has worked himself up to a full-on strop by the time we get to our room. He slams the door shut behind us, sets the book on his bed, then crosses his arms. “Fine, Snow. We’re alone. Whatever you have to say—say it.”
I cross my arms, too. “All right,” I say, “just… sit down, okay?”
“Why should I sit down?”
“Because you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Good,” he says. “You should be glad I’m not making you bleed.”
“For Christ’s sake,” I say. I only swear like a Normal when I’m at my wit’s end. “Could you just calm down? This is important.”
Baz shakes his head, exasperated, but sits at the end of his bed, frowning at me. He has these droopy dog eyes that always look like they’re peeking out from under his eyelids, even when his eyes are wide open. And his lips naturally turn down at the corners. It’s like his face was designed for pouting.
I walk over to my book bag and pull out a notebook. I wrote down as much as I could the day after Baz’s mum came to see me; I thought I was writing it all down to share with the Mage.
