For a moment, he looked less like a prefect and more like a boy realizing obedience had left him nowhere to stand that wasn’t poisoned.
“I don’t know how,” he said.
The honesty moved through me before I could guard against it.
“Then learn,” I said.
I heard what I had made it sound like a second too late.
The door to my room was under my hand. He was close enough now that I could see the blue in the gray of his eyes, and close enough that the Mark on my wrist began to ache with the effort of not reaching.
Caspian’s gaze dropped to the inch of space between us.
He looked at it like it was the most dangerous thing in the corridor.
“Astra,” he said.
My name came out low, almost rough.
I should have opened the door.
I didn’t.
His hand lifted, then stopped before it touched me.
The stop was worse.
The space between his fingers and my cheek felt hotter than contact would have.
Behind us, somewhere up the corridor, a door closed.
Caspian stepped back first.
“Go inside,” he said.
He was right.
My body had no respect for that.
Thankfully, he turned and walked away first.
When he turned the corner, I finally opened the door of Room 114, stepped inside, and pressed my back against it.
The interrogation hadn’t told them what I was. They’d already known that.
But it had shown them where to press.
23
At four-twelve, the basin lit again.
For one miserable second, I thought Linden had found another excuse to terrorize me.
The water went silver-white, and three words formed across the surface.
Salle. Five o’clock. Hale.
I stared at the basin until the words dissolved.
