But Oliver broke the rules. Oliver discovered secret passages and endured dangerous trials to access them and never told me any of it. Oliver kept secrets from me for weeks, maybe months, and now he’s dead and I’m the one left behind with a healing bond and broken memories.
Following the rules isn’t helping me get any closer to learning what happened to him.
So maybe it’s time I stopped being so damn predictable.
16
AVERY
Hours crawlby like they’re trying to torture me as Alessandra and I sit in the living room of our suite, the space too big without Callie’s sharp presence. She’s claimed one end of the couch, her waves cascading over a throw pillow, while I’ve curled up on the opposite end with a book I’m not actually reading.
“I don’t understand why she didn’t talk to me,” she says as she examines her manicured nails, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays her casual pose. “We tell each other everything. At least, we used to.”
I make a small noise of acknowledgment, turning a page I haven’t read.
“She was spending so much time with Logan.” Alessandra sighs, but there’s a hint of satisfaction underneath the worry. “I really thought they might be getting somewhere. But...”
She trails off, pressing her palm flat against her chest in that gesture she’s been making since Callie vanished.
“But what?” I prompt, because she clearly needs to talk about this, and listening’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.
“She was so secretive about what they’ve been doing together, but when I asked what they talked about, she said itwasn’t important and changed the subject. And she’s looked so tired lately. I asked if she was feeling okay, and she snapped at me. Callie never snaps at me.”
The worry in her voice is genuine, stripped of its usual performance. I recognize it because I’ve felt it myself—the creeping sense that something’s wrong with someone you love, but you can’t figure out what.
Also, she’s speaking about Callie in past tense, just like I’ve been doing with Oliver.
“She was anxious about the Descent, right?” I ask, referring to the trial all third-years take at the end of the year, where we face our biggest fear alongside our emberlinked partner. “It’s a bit far out to worry about it, but Callie always thinks ahead.”
“Maybe.” Alessandra glances at Callie’s closed door, then back at me. “I kept telling myself that once things settled down with Logan, she’d be back to normal. You know how she gets about him.”
I do know. Everyone knows.
She studies me for a moment, her warm brown eyes going soft in a way that makes me want to look away. “How are you holding up?” she asks. “You barely touched your dinner.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You need to eat. I know things are hard with Oliver missing, but you need to take care of yourself.”
“I’m fine.” The lie comes out smooth and practiced. “Just tired.”
Alessandra doesn’t push. I’ve always appreciated that about her. For all her scheming and social manipulation, she knows when to step back.
“Well, I should try to get some sleep. Lord knows I need it.” She rises from the couch, stretching with the grace of someone who’s taken dance lessons since childhood. “These dark circles are becoming a permanent fixture on my face.”
She does look exhausted. It’s the kind of bone-deep tired that not even expensive concealer can hide.
We say goodnight, the door clicks shut, and finally, I’m alone.
The clock on the wall ticks. Each minute feels like an eternity.
I try reading my book, but the words blur together. I try to review notes for Flame & Dominion, but my brain refuses to focus. So, I end up just sitting here, watching the ticking hands, which feel like they’re moving slower and slower.
At a quarter to two, I stand up, grab my jacket, and check my reflection in the small mirror on the wall.
I look pale and nervous, like someone about to do something monumentally stupid.
Meaning: I look exactly how I feel.
