Page 48

“I won’t let them kill you. I promise.” I smile up at him.

“Who wants to kill you, Cassius?” Tate asks. Damn. As much as I like that voice, I don’t want to discuss this in front of him.

“No one…yet.” Joel sends me a meaningful look before he walks around me, leaving Tate and me standing there.

“Thank you!” I call after him, but Joel doesn’t acknowledge it.

“What is going on, sunshine?” Tate levels me with one of his no-nonsense looks. And a thrill goes through me at hearing his pet name for me.

“Nothing you have to worry about.” I smile, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“Why doesn’t that ease my mind when it comes to you?” He ruffles his already mussed hair, making my fingers itch with the want to run them through his hair as well. Nope, not going there. I have much bigger problems at the moment.

“I don’t know. Why doesn’t it?” I try to look as innocent as possible, walking around him.

“How come I didn’t bend the rules before you got here, and now I find myself with both feet over the fucking line all the time?” Tate growls at my back.

I send him a sunny smile over my shoulder. “Coincidence? Luck? Take your pick.”

“I think it’s more about the current company,” he says, and I laugh at his resigned tone.

“No. I don’t take the blame for that. I didn’t drag you into it, not once. Actually, I do my best to keep you out of it, like right now.”

Tate groans.

I chuckle and dive into the crowd of runners and riders still leaving the auditorium. I have no intention of giving him the time to question me or to figure this out by observing my reactions.

Livia leans against the wall next to the auditorium door, her eyes fixed on me, and I don’t like the look of satisfaction on her face.

“Summer, a word, please.” Tate’s voice is all business when he calls out to me the following morning before I can exit the sparring hall. Calix looks at me questioningly, but I shrug and tell him to go ahead before walking over to Tate.

When I reach him, Tate holds out a letter to me, but I only stare instead of taking it. My eyebrows rise when I recognize my brother’s painstakingly accurate handwriting. I even glimpse his seal now that Tate moves the letter in front of my face.

Shit, how does he know I am here?

“Where did you get that?” I look up at Tate.

“Jared met Sloan at the gate. She seemed anxious to get this to you,” he says, I look around worried someone might listen in and realize we’re the only ones left in the room.

Awareness gathers between us until the air seems to hum with it. My eyes dart to his lips and then to the letter in his hand. The letter I just know he will have questions about.

“Why, thank you for hand-delivering my mail.” I snatch the letter out of his hand and step back, hoping it will dispel the tension. “Now, if that doesn’t make me feel special,” I joke and wink at him before shoving the letter into my bag.

“Don’t you want to open it?” he asks. Is that disappointment I see in his eyes?

I shake my head. “No.”

“It looks official.”

“It looks like an officially annoying letter by my officially nosy family trying to make my business officially theirs,” I joke. “So yeah, pretty official.”

“It’s stamped by the headquarters.” He tries again. Damn his attention to detail.

“Well, I never said that my officially annoying family doesn’t hold annoyingly official positions, did I?” My smile is a little strained now, and I turn to leave. I’m worried now—without even reading the damn letter.

“Didn’t I earn your trust by now?” His quiet question makes me pause.

I do trust him. But enough to risk not only my life but also my family’s? And if I’m honest, I’m afraid of his reaction, too. Most people grow up with us being the monster in their bedtime story. Gods, not even I am sure that I’m not.

“Are you ready to spill all of your secrets?” I play the ball right back. The way his jaw tenses is answer enough.

How can we ever have a chance together with all the secrets between us?

I smile at him sadly. Maybe it’s foolish to even hope.

“See.” I shrug. “And neither am I.”

I hurry out the door and nearly run into Calix, who is hovering in front of it.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I tell him.

“I wanted to.” He shrugs. “Just in case you were in trouble or something.”

“Worried he would secretly dispose of my body?” I tease.

He shrugs. “There is a strange tension between you two lately. Don’t blame me for assuming the worst with his reputation.” I nearly laugh but realize he’s being serious.

I stop him by laying a hand on his arm when he turns to leave.

“He won’t hurt me,” I promise. At least not in the way Calix fears.

His gaze is skeptical. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I’m saying it with a smile and all the conviction I can muster, but deep down, I’m worried about that, too.

When we arrive at Flight Theory, I sneak my brother’s letter between the pages of my notebook. It can’t hold anything good. After yesterday’s announcement, I can guess what it is—I hope I’m wrong.

Everyone’s gaze is on the board in front, where Prof. Sanders sketches something that looks like a wing. His voice is only background noise to me. I need to know what is in that letter.

I pry off the seal and unfold it. My fingers feel clammy.

My gaze skims over my brother’s neat handwriting before it finds the words I dreaded. I look forward to seeing you … Shit. Now I read the whole letter, and it keeps getting worse.

…didn’t answer any of my questions... last letter…worried about you… coming home with me…

Shit, shit, shit.

Calix's concerned look tells me I said that out loud. I force out a smile, but it doesn’t even feel convincing.

“What is it?” he whispers. Our gazes lock on Professor Sanders’s face. He hates talking in class.

“One of my nosy brothers wants to visit,” I whisper. He glances my way, the question plain on his face, before he turns back to the front. “Um…” I swallow. “They don’t know I’m here.” His head whips around to face me.

“What?” His question earns us a reprimanding look from Sanders. I wince. He lowers his voice to a hiss. “Where do they think you are?”

I bury my face in my hands, which makes my voice sound as hollow as I feel. “Visiting my cousin.”

“Shit.”

I peek up at him. “That’s what I said. Isn’t it?”

Tate has been away for eight days, and I know his flight returns from patrol today, but I haven’t seen him yet. Avoiding being alone with Tate is one thing but not seeing him for days is another.

I’m on my way to the library and just crossing the small hall to the stairs when the door to the courtyard opens, drawing my gaze. Jared steps through it, and I gasp. He’s covered in blood.

“What happened?” I hurry over to him.

“Not my blood,” he answers, and my stomach drops. “Not his either,” he hurries on when he sees my expression. “We came upon a full-on attack. It wasn’t pretty, but everyone will be alright.” I nod numbly.

I need to see him. Knowing they have been engaged in an attack…I need to see for myself that he’s fine because I didn’t miss Jared’s wording that everyone will be alright.

“Where is he?”

“Reporting back to Janus. Where are you going?”

“I’m on my way to the library,” I tell Jared. “And you should clean up before you make someone’s heart stop.”

He chuckles at my joke but seems weary, and his steps are heavy when he heads off to the sleeping quarters. This must have been one hell of a patrol.

I’m sitting in my usual spot, biding my time trying to read, and a smile steals on my face when I sense Tate’s signature warmth coming closer.

I focus on the signatures around me and notice someone else heading in my direction. Something about the magic is strange.

I close my eyes and concentrate on it. It’s heading in my direction, but I can’t say I’ve encountered it before, and it’s strong.

I open my eyes, expecting to see a light moving toward me. But there is nothing, only darkness.

A shiver runs down my back. Why is someone slinking through the library in the dark?

This is nothing but a veiled execution. Vega’s words concerning my punishment run through my mind. Could it be?

The book drops from my suddenly numb fingers, and I don’t care about the loud thump reverberating through the silence around me.

You’re overreacting, I tell myself. But it does nothing to slow my erratic heartbeat.

My hands shake as I turn down the lamp next to me until it flickers and finally dies. Darkness surrounds me, and I feel like I’m floating in a void. The magic signatures are my only anchors. Like tiny stars, they move around me, two of them heading in my direction.

I jump up and use my hands and memory to navigate. Treading carefully to muffle my steps, I make my way to the bookshelves, but my progress is painfully slow.

Tate’s magic is my focal point. Spreading my arms to touch the walls of books next to me, I hurry up my steps, going as fast as I dare while zigzagging blindly through small corridors.

My breath catches in my throat when I realize the signature is following me, coming closer.

How is that possible?

I abandon all caution and start running, no longer trying to be quiet.

Tate strides down one of the bigger pathways straight ahead. If I get to him before whoever is chasing me catches up, I’m safe.

I close in from the side and chance a look back before I hurl myself right into Tate’s path.

I barely step out between the dark shelves before being slammed into the next one. The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and the pain in my back and ribs makes it hard to draw the next one.

Tate’s forearm presses me into the books behind me, and the cool metal of a knife rests against my skin. He dropped his lamp when I rushed him, so we are standing in total darkness.

Shit, I didn’t take into account that he didn’t know I was coming.

Despite the pain in my back and the blade at my throat, Tate’s closeness makes me feel safe.

I struggle to catch my breath while I search the area around us. The signature is gone.