I stepped onto the roof and let the door close behind me.
Kieran’s gaze moved to the cut at my mouth. Caspian had cleaned the blood, but the split still pulled when I spoke.
The look on Kieran’s face changed before he could charm it into something easier.
“Does that hurt?”
“More when people remind me of it.”
His eyes came back to mine.
“Then I’ll make an effort to be less concerned with your mouth.”
“That sounds difficult for you.”
“You have no idea.”
The wind wove between us.
So did the Pull: a bright clean rush that should have felt like mischief and did not.
Under it was pain.
Not mine.
His.
Kieran noticed me noticing and shifted his weight.
“Don’t,” he said.
One word. No flourish.
That frightened me more than the green light had.
I stopped beside the wall but didn’t sit.
Below us, the academy went on pretending to be made of stone and not listening.
“You were outside my door.”
“Near your door.”
“You were watching Caspian.”
The word did what I thought it would.
His smile stayed, but the boy under it tensed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I meant to be the one waiting for you when you got out of there. And I wasn’t.”
The honesty hurt more than another joke would have.
“You could have come down.”
