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His words are a slap to my face. But I trust him. Of course, I trust him. He’s just being rude because we’re out of time. So I comb my knotty hair but pause at something he said. “Wait. You were here last year, too?”
Of course, he was. It’s been five years. He has at least twenty enchanted charms on his Chaser uniform. Alfie always had a knack for fitting in.
Chagrined at my progress, he takes over my hair. Not just fixing it, I realize, but braiding. His fingers fly about my scalp, weaving with deft skill, making me wonder whose long hair he’s so familiar with. A beat ofsomethingsquirms in my gut, but I stop my derailing mood with one thought. Alfie isalive.
“I thought you were dead,” I whisper.
His hands still. His tone softens. “Me too. I mean, I thought you were. Dead, that is.”
His sudden blustering reminds me of my old friend. The one who played with me in the bunker museum. The one who blushed every time he talked to me after hitting puberty. He stole a rose from the secret garden’s hedges, carried it in his pocket all day, then gifted it to me, not realizing it had wilted.
“How . . .?”
“Did I get here?” His charms tinkle. “I don’t know. Just woke up here. You?”
My hair feels secure, so I face him. Pain is etched all over his features. He slams on his mask of pleasantry, reminding me of Peablossom’s forced good moods.
I tap one of his charms and answer, “I found a portal stone.”
His eyes widen. “Do you have one to return?”
“Yes. But no manabeeze to power it.”
His shoulders drop. “You won’t find any here.”
“What do you mean?”
Another name being called echoes down the hall. He takes my hand and pulls me out of the dormitory, looking straight ahead as we jog.
“Whatever you do,” he warns, “don’t look them in the eyes. Don’t draw their attention. Blend in. This isn’t the first tournament I’ve survived, and it won’t be my last. We’ll talk more after the procession.”
“Don’t look who in the eyes?”
“The Gentry.” At my confusion, he adds, “The Radiants.”
Before he opens the door to the commons, he pauses and gives me a sideways look. The impact of his change hits me in the heart.Look at him.He’s so handsome and strong now. So grown up. There’s no sign of the gangly teenager while I’m here looking like dishwater.
He asks quietly, “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here if you had magic, right?”
Biting my lip, I shake my head.
His gaze returns to the door, and he swallows. “I still hear your screams in my sleep. I tried to come to you, but...”
My breath catches as all the loneliness and confusion I’ve felt since we were last together wells in my chest. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. At first, he stiffens. He smells the same, like linen, soap, and something peppery.
“Willow...” His protest dies, but I squeeze him harder, bury my face into his neck deeper.
“I’m so happy you’re alive, Alfie. I missed you so much.”
He cups the back of my head. His muscles relax beneath my cheek.
“I missed you too.” He tenses again. “Remember, don’t draw their attention.”
I pull back and realize something. I don’t think he knows what the Six did to me. They were responsible for sending me to Crystal City. Whether directly or indirectly, everything bad that happened to me was because of their manipulations—the war, me being trained as a weapon, the undead I summoned, the people I killed.
“Rory is dead,” I blurt.
“What?” His eyes widen.
