“Wait,” I said.
Both of them looked at me.
I ignored their gazes and went to the nearest bench.
The wood was old. Not polished old. Used old. The front edge had been worn smooth by hands, skirts, cuffs, fingernails. Someone had tried to scrape one corner clean and failed.
Low on the left support, half hidden by shadow, someone had cut a small symbol into the grain.
I crouched.
Caspian said my name.
Softly.
I looked up at him.
“If you are about to tell me to step back, choose another sentence.”
Caspian chuckled, it sounded strangled but real.
“I was going to say the left side has newer scratches.”
Oh.
I looked.
He was right.
The underside of the bench had older marks cut deep and dark, but near the left support the wood was pale where someone had carved recently.
Kieran came closer.
Hale stayed where he was, watching the far door.
I reached under the bench.
Caspian crouched beside me, close enough for the bond to warm at my wrist.
“There,” he said.
Two letters, and a Mark I recognized.
D.M.
My breath caught so hard it hurt.
Below the initials, another cut marked the wood.
A date.
I did not know the school’s dates well enough to trust myself.
“Caspian.”
He leaned closer.
His shoulder brushed mine.
