“Take your time.”
He looked up at that, something dark flickering in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because when you’re done, I have to leave.”
“Yes.” He tied off the last stitch. “You do.”
Neither of us moved.
“But you should go.” The words were barely voiced, might have been shaped more than spoken.
I swallowed. “I?—”
“Please.” He reached for his ruined shirt, not looking at me now. “If you don’t leave now, we’re going to do something we’ll both regret.”
I turned for the door, made it three steps.
“Syn?”
I looked back. He stood there, half-dressed and battle-scarred, looking at me like I was something he’d spend the rest of his life wanting and never having.
“This doesn’t happen again.”
“No,” I agreed, though it felt like an impossible promise. “It doesn’t.”
I left before my resolve could shatter. Before I could run back and damn us both.
Chapter 34
Syneca
To find what was lost, walk backward through the place you last remember it. Your shadow recalls even when you’ve forgotten.
Sleep wasn’t happening.
I’d been staring at the ceiling for at least an hour, watching shadows shift as clouds moved across the moon outside my window, running my fingers over the Hunter’s Promise on my palm. My mind kept replaying the medical room. Wickett’s blood on my hands, the way he looked at me, the heat and the terrible timing between us.
His father had stabbed him. And I was lying here thinking about the way his thumb had brushed my jaw instead of figuring out how to keep us all alive. We couldn’t get out of the fucking city. That was the problem. As long as we continued to be smashed beneath Tiberius Veyne’s fist, there was nothing we could do. But all I could think about was Wickett...
Priorities, Syn. Get some.
A soft knock at the door made me sit up. Too quiet to be Calder. Too hesitant to be Lucy. I rolled out of the bed, unlockedthe door and opened it with a sigh. I knew who it was before she even slipped through the gap, her wings drooping with exhaustion but her bright blue eyes too bright for someone who should be sleeping.
Pip’s matching buns sat lopsided on her head, the usual mass of charms woven in a mess. “Sorry. I know it’s late. I just... I couldn’t sleep, and I thought, maybe...”
“You want to sit with Silas,” I finished.
She nodded, eyes falling. “He just makes me feel better. Safer, I guess. Is that weird?”
“Not even a little bit.” I gestured toward the griffin, who was currently taking up three quarters of my bed and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. “Go ahead. Fair warning though, he’s a grumpy bed hog.”
Pip giggled, then flew over and settled against his warm side, tucking herself into the curve of his body. Silas huffed in his sleep but shifted slightly to accommodate her, which was the sweetest thing he seemed to always do for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Anytime, Pip.”
I moved to the desk chair and sat, staring at the files I’d neglected, other than my thorough search.
