“I’m trying to keep that from happening.”
“By moving away from me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m getting tired of ‘safe’ meaning everyone else decides where I stand.”
“What did Quill say?” he asked.
“To be ready for the formal.”
“I know that much.”
“The sleeves are coming off the dress.”
His gaze moved to my wrist.
“Good.”
“Cosima is doing it.”
“Better.”
“He said choosing incorrectly has been historically dramatic.”
“He said that?”
I nodded.
For a moment, Caspian looked younger than he ever had in the dining hall. The line between his brows eased. His mouth lost its careful set. With his collar crooked and his blond hair loose at his temple, he suddenly looked more like the boy he was, not the man he was expected to be.
“My father arrives before nightfall,” he said.
“Everyone’s coming to my party.”
“He will expect me to stand beside you tomorrow.”
“So will everyone else.”
“Not just stand with you,” he said. “Perform my role.”
The room went quiet around the admission.
I took Caspian’s note from my boot.
It was folded smaller now, warm from being carried under my heel all the way to Quill’s office and out again. I held it out to him.
“Keep it,” he said.
“It’s evidence.”
“That is why you should keep it.”
“You just gave me evidence against you.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“I wanted you to have something I had chosen to risk.”
