“I can’t,” she says. “If he sees us, you’ll lose your apprenticeship, I’ll probably be expelled, and I’ll lose my magic. Just leave it alone.”
Cassius doesn’t let go of her, and she doesn’t pull away. She told herself to stay away at all costs, but now, next to him, she can’t bring herself to leave.
“What if there was somewhere we could go where he wouldn’t see us?”
Morning light streams in from the window and haloes his frame. He looks like an angel. “What?”
“I—well,wehave a plan.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you if you come sit.”
“But—”
“Triche is in his office. I promise he won’t see.” He leans inclose. “And Alistair needs you. He’s making himself sick with worry.”
She pushes up on her tiptoes and looks across the crowded room, meeting Alistair’s gaze for a second before looking away. He looks so tired. Angel rubs his back. Claudia feels like a monster for putting so much distance between them, but it’s for the best. Better to have him detach from her now, on his own accord, than to have grief replace their friendship in equal weight.
She’s protecting him. All of them. This is how it has to be.
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“Tell him yourself,” he says, lightly tugging at her arm.
A line is forming by the tea table. They need to get out of the way, and Claudia isn’t ready to give up the feeling of his touch. On instinct, she slides her arm through his grip and pauses when her hand touches his. His fingers twitch.
“All right,” she says. “Just for a second.”
Cassius leads her to the table where she takes a seat next to him, across from Alistair. The five of them sit in an unbearably tense silence for a whole minute. Claudia nibbles on a cucumber sandwich she grabbed from the tea table. It tastes like nothing.
Eventually, Angel clears his throat. “How are you?” he asks awkwardly. It’s obvious he has so much more to say, but it seems as though he’s forcing himself to tread lightly.
“I’m all right.”
Cassius, Alistair, and Marcherie look at one another. Angel looks at Claudia, both of them too new to understand the conversation happening between the others’ eyes.
“Seriously,” Marcherie says. “We’re concerned.”
“I’m fine,” she says sternly. “I’m just busy.”
“What’s made you infinitely busier than you were before detention?” Alistair snaps. “That’s when everything changed.”
“Bones,” Cassius warns.
“Don’t.” Eyes fixed on Claudia, he bites out, “You can’t just leave me without a word or warning. You don’t get to tear yourselfout of my heart when you were the one who forced your way inside. It’s not fair, and it’s notyou. Something is wrong, and I’m angry at you for facing it without me. I let you in, Claud. You’re supposed to do the same thing for me.”
“Alistair.” Marcherie drops her fist on the table. “Stop.”
There’s nothing Claudia can say—she can’t tell him the truth, and she’s not capable of lying to his face.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs eventually.
Tears well in Alistair’s dark, pleading eyes. “I’m just so confused.”
She bites the inside of her cheek and looks down. No amount of deep breaths could ease the horrible feeling settling into her stomach right now, but she takes them anyway.
This was such a mistake. She can’t say anything that she’s thinking—I miss you more; someone at this table is going to die and it’s all my fault; forget me if you can; forgive me even though I don’t deserve it.
