I take another step back. And another. Snow’s wings drop a bit. He’s looking down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. His chest is pale—cream and gold and pink—but his arms are still sun-kissed from those days in the back of Shepard’s truck. It’s only been a week.
No.
I step forward. His head jerks up.
“You can’t just decide that you’re done with me,” I say. “That’s not what we are.”
Snow looks even more confused, even angrier, than before. “I can’t decide I’m done? I have to pretend that I’m happy like this—sitting at home waiting for you to spell my wings away?”
“Shut up about the wings! You don’t have to keep the wings!”
“I’m not! I’m having them off tomorrow!”
“Wait,tomorrow?” His wings . . .
Snow lurches towards me. He points at my face. “I’m done, Baz—I’m done playing dungeons and dragons with you lot. I’m done with, fucking,spells.And prophecies. Werewolves and vampires. I’m just a person. An ordinary bloke.”
“How can you say that? You were the most powerful magi—”
His wings flare out. “Was! Iwasall that. Not anymore. It’s like I’ve been living in a museum—‘Here’s Simon Snow. We thought he was the Chosen One for a few years. Gave himself a tail. Look at the state of him.’I’ve got to let all that go, I have to figure out what comes next!”
“That’s what we’ve been doing! We’re figuring it out together.”
He rolls his eyes and shrugs his wings. It’s all one gesture. “I know what’s next for you and Penny—magic! It’s always more magic.”
“You keep talking about magic,” I say. “I’m talking aboutus.”
“It’s all the same thing!”
“I don’t care about magic!” I do care, I care passionately. But I’d give my magic to the Humdrum to fix this.
“That’s a lie,” Simon says.
I pull my wand out of my sleeve and hold both ends. “I’ll break it, Snow. I don’t care. I don’t need it. Not like I—”
“You’re notbreakingyourwand.” He tries to yank the thing out of my hands, but he ends up pulling me closer.
My face hangs over his. I’ve been yelling. I’ve been angry. But now I’m just . . . “Please,” I say, so quietly. “Please, Simon. Don’t do this.”
SIMON
His hair is brushing against my forehead. We’re both holding on to his ivory wand. The fight’s gone out of him, and that’s no good, because fighting is all I can manage right now.
“Baz. . .” I whisper.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this to me, love.”
“I have to.”
His head is rocking against mine, from side to side. “No, Simon. No. We can’t come apart like this. We’re not made of pieces that come apart.”
“Baz—”
“You can’t justgive upon this. On me. Don’t you know what we have? It’s the sort of thing people dream about. They make potions to steal it.” He pulls his wand against his chest. He pulls me with it.
“I know,” I say.
And I do. Iknow.
