The Mark on my wrist pulled inward.
“Of what?”
Caspian answered before she did.
“The others.”
The words reached my wrist before the rest of me understood them.
Pain opened under my sleeve, sharp and immediate.
Not from Caspian. From what came with him: green apple and cold wind; leather and warm skin.
The Mark pulled toward Caspian and away from him at once, three bright threads crossing so hard I thought one of them might snap.
My hand flew to my wrist.
Caspian half-rose.
Then stopped himself with both palms flat on the table.
“Astra.”
My name in his mouth made the pain worse.
Accept Caspian.
Lose Kieran.
Lose Hale.
Make the Mark choose one line and cut the others loose.
Cosima was beside me before I realized she had moved.
“Breathe,” she said.
“Thank you for the useless advice,” I hissed.
“It is only useless when you refuse to do it.”
I breathed because arguing with her required air.
The pain changed shape.
Less knife.
More bruise.
Caspian stood very still on the other side of the table, every part of him held under discipline except his face.
His face had gone white.
“I didn’t know hearing it would hurt you,” he said.
“Neither did I.”
“Now we know,” Cosima said.
