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“That is final, Saren. You two may communicate, but he is mine to care for. As it always should have been.”

He nodded, deflating like a popped balloon. All your fault.

“Don’t pout. It’s not as if I’m taking him away. Not yet, at least.”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, clenching his hands so tight his nails bit into his skin.

Saren never wanted Ryx taken away.

He wanted to keep him.

***

Patryn was touching Ryx. His fingers glided over the puckered skin of the incision, applied an ointment, and nothing happened. Saren couldn’t believe his eyes. How was it possible? How could Patryn be so easily unaffected when he could scarcely breathe? The urge to ask was strong. Maybe it was because Patryn rarely used his mastery. Years of training made observation just as telling for his guardian. Saren hoped to achieve that one day because, as it stood, he wanted to use his mastery for everything.

It felt too good not to.

The Maven was rumored to have all Telex masteries: Telepathy, clairvoyance, telekinesis, and even the rarest of them all, precognition. Each mastery had subcategories, and individuals could specialize in them, like Patryn, who could peel back layers of lies with a single glance. Humans often believed their kind to be monstrous because they were so defenseless against these masteries. But mastery came at a cost. The hunger. That horrible itch behind their eyes that nothing could ever scratch except one thing. Feeding.

Everyone’s vice was different. Some ate memories. Some ate fear exclusively, leaving the recipient of their mastery almost foolishly brave. Saren knew what Patryn’s vice was because he was taught to crave the same. Emotions came easiest, tended to satiate the hunger for longer, and for the most part, went undetected by the recipient—a clean, efficient way to avoid suspicion, too. Once a month, Patryn brought a traitor for Saren to feed from, and they seemed no different once he was done.

A win for everyone involved, really.

He thought about the cold emptiness residing in Ryx. It wasn’t like he ever wanted to feed on him—not a friend. But knowing he never could was annoying. He wanted to know what Ryx’s emotions would taste like, purely out of curiosity. Inching closer to observe Patryn tend to the wound, he glanced down and met Ryx’s sharp eyes. They seemed alert now, contemplating everything all at once. What did Ryx feel?

Did he feel things as deeply as Saren did?

4

Saren

The exam was in the morning.

Saren poured over his notes, with at least a dozen journals scattered around the floor of his bedroom. Ryx sat on the edge of his bed in silence. Saren’s old coloring pad and pastels were left unused beside him. He’d only invited the boy to join because he was tired of being alone. Saren loved to color whenever his incessant need for knowledge made his head ache, so he thought he’d extend that to Ryx. Apparently, the boy was not artistic in the slightest. If he weren’t so distracted, Saren would’ve tried teaching him how to knit.

He liked doing that, too.

But beyond being a comforting presence, there wasn’t anything Ryx could do to help him prepare—he doubted this stranger in New Grove knew anything at all about his kind. But his scent eased some of his stress; that unknown fragrance wrapped around him like a fluffy blanket. He was safe for now, and knowing Ryx was there made it all bearable. Tapping the blunt end of the pencil to his lip, Saren blew out a breath before scribbling a few words onto the rough paper.

So far, he could use only three masteries. Telepathy was obviously his strongest skill. Second was telekinesis, and the last, clairvoyance, needed serious work. In a meditative state, he could capture glimpses. But from his studies, he determined that his lack of real-world knowledge and travel severely hindered his mastery. Saren didn’t know many people, and he’d never left New Grove. So it was incredibly difficult to form clear images in his mind’s eye.

As for precognition, well, that was simply out of the question. He could no sooner predict what the weather outside of the biodome would be like than experience entire visions playing out in someone’s near future.

He dropped his head to the desk.

“Why you work like that?”

Ryx’s vocabulary was stunted. Sometimes he spoke like a toddler, in abrupt, short sentences. Saren was determined to remedy that as soon as possible. It made for poor conversation because Ryx got annoyed quickly when he couldn’t get what he needed to say out.

“Because I have an exam in the morning and I need to make sure I’m prepared.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Ryx’s fingers twitching. All day they’d done it. And the veins around his eyes seemed to glow beneath his pale skin. That part was new—the veins. They hadn’t been there before his surgery. The boy was so strange—so different—but the last thing he wanted was to be offensive by asking too many questions.

“Exam?” Ryx asked but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes. For my masteries.”

“Mastery?”