A sudden jolt of pain shoots through her, and her eyes fly open. She lets out a gasp. Her fingers dart away from the leaves in her hand, as if she’s just been burned. Something in her chest stings like skin ripped from flesh, and she doubles over, her breaths hurting, slightly frightened but mostly surprised.
Excited.
Had she done it?
And immediately, she feels a desire to tell Ari, knowing he would be fascinated too, that he would care. Her eyes dart up to the courtyard, as if thinking about him might conjure him here, as if she’ll see him walking toward her and she can wave him over with a grin and say,Ari, look what just happened, look what I did. I have something I need to tell you.
But when she looks up, Ari isn’t there. Instead, she sees her classmate Nicolas walking toward her, a bag slung across one shoulder.
“Look who’s staying late today,” he says.
She swallows her excitement and puts the leaves down, surprised that someone has noticed her. Nicolas has never bothered speaking to her before.
“Oh,” she replies. “Hello.”
“You heading out or something?”
“What?”
He nods at her foot. “That’s the tile that leads out to the back alley.”
She shakes her head and looks down at the nondescript stone tile under her boot. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh. I figured you were sneaking out somewhere. Everyone does it.” He shrugs. “All the buildings have a tunnel out to the alley. For emergencies, in case of a raid.” He comes over to look curiously into her hand. “Whatareyou doing, then?”
“Oh,” she says, looking down. “Nothing. Reading some books.”
He whistles at the title of the book in her lap. “Bioalchemy,” he muses. His gaze goes to the leaves that had been in her palm. “You’re skipping way ahead.”
She doesn’t answer him, just smiles hesitantly.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asks her.
“Not much to talk about,” she answers.
“Not even when I’m asking you a question?”
Her initial pleasure at his attention fades. There’s an aggressiveness in his voice that makes her tense.
“I’m just passing some time before I head home,” she says.
He takes a seat beside her, then picks up one of the leaves that she had dropped. The instant he holds it, his eyebrows lift in mild surprise—he can tell that she has partially transmuted them, can tell that its stiffness resembles the texture of wood more than a leaf. Sam stares at it too, the ache still pulsing through her chest.
“Bioalchemy’s forbidden for junior apprentices, you know,” he says.
“I know,” she replies.
“Professor Obasi said messing with organic compounds can lead to dangerous consequences,” he continues, nodding at her. In the lengthening evening, his eyes are hidden in shadows. “You could really hurt someone.”
“I’m just playing with leaves,” she says.
She sees a hint of cruelty in the curl of his lips and knows he wants to tell the professor what she’s done. “I’ll keep this,” he says, pocketing the leaf.
“Don’t tell her,” Sam says.
He lifts a brow. “So youarescared.”
“I’m not scared,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
