Page 44 of The Idol

“Want a distraction?”

I tilted my head. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jace reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and round. “Like this.”

He held up a pecan.

I blinked. “…Where did you get that?”

“Stole it,” he whispered conspiratorially.

My eyes widened. “Youstoleit?”

“From a squirrel.”

A startled laugh burst out of me before I could stop it—too loud, too clear, and utterly impossible to smother back down. It came out bright and surprised, and I slapped a hand over my mouth, horrified.

Jace grinned triumphantly. “There it is.”

“I-I shouldn’t laugh,” I stammered behind my fingers. “That’s terrible!”

“It’s a pecan, Elior, not a life,” he said, tossing it and catching it smoothly.

“But what if he needed it?!”

“I’m sure he can find more. He did glare at me, though,” Jace admitted.

That made another giggle escape, softer this time but just as impossible to stop. The air felt lighter. My steps felt lighter.

“See?” he said quietly. “Better.”

I ducked my head, still smiling despite myself. “Maybe a little.”

We reached the end of the path, where the walkway split—one direction toward the dining hall, the other toward the dormitories. Jace slowed, then stopped.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I managed, still embarrassed that he’d made me laugh like that, like it was easy.

“Blessed be the Light,” he said, before turning and walking off.

I watched him go for a moment—then, unable to help it, pressed my fingertips to my lips, then my chin, then my jaw, then my cheek.

Each spot seemed to tingle.

* * *

Later that night, I tried to focus on the sermon.

I really did.

Father’s voice rolled through the chapel, smooth and commanding, the same cadence he always used when he preached.

“Distraction,” he said, pacing slowly before the pews, “is the first whisper of sin. The Light requires devotion. Complete devotion.”

I nodded along automatically.

Complete devotion.