Domenic examined Targath’s calcified sheath jutting out from one of Peak’s pockets. He’d never considered the similarities between Targath and Syarthis before: both the most powerful of their class of magic, both accompanied by inherent expectations.
But there was more than that. Syarthis, Targath, Ravfiri… Domenic felt the heat of every Living Wand, but none compared to theirs. And when Peak drew Targath, when Hanna drew Syarthis, Domenic could always tell, instinctively. They each bore a presence of significance.
Domenic’s stomach sank. “So you were only sure about me because of Iseul and Hanna?”
“No, that was only part of it. The bigger reason was when I first met you, when the Council visited you in the hospital. You were real quiet, real shaken up—understandably, of course. Anyone else would’ve dropped out. But you chose to stay. And I know the whole country’s had a lot to say about your grades, your attendance. Even Iseul worried you were squandering your potential. But me, I always thought what you did achieve was pretty remarkable. Special, even.”
Domenic fixed his gaze on the cinder-block wall. “Oh, um…” He cleared his throat. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it! And look at you now! Three weeks ago, you were so sick you were green on that train to Oldermere. You ought to be real proud of how much you’ve grown. I know I am.”
“I mean…” Domenic shifted awkwardly. “It’s not like I had a choice. It was that or fail… everyone.”
This time when Peak grimaced, it lingered. And even though Domenic knew it was his imagination, he swore the radio’s static sharpened, that the lounge’s laughter dimmed as if moving farther and farther away.
Peak gulped his beer.
“Listen to me, Dom. Because there’s something I’ve… I’ve really been wanting to say. Whatever choices you’ve got ahead, they’re not gonna be easy.” He rubbed the empty fourth finger of his left hand. “And yeah, wands like Targath and Valmordion, wands with the power to save a whole lotta lives, sometimes it feels like you don’t have a choice but to put other people’swell-being before your own. But there’s real honor in sacrifice. And that sacrifice is always worth it.”
Domenic unlocked his sleeping quarters to find Ellery sitting in his desk chair, one leg crossed atop the other.
He hastily slipped inside and shut the door. “How did you get in here?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve done this before,” she said slyly, repeating his same words from when he’d climbed through her dormitory window. Domenic raised a brow, dangerously curious despite having no right to be.
Then Ellery’s voice went worried. “So what happened with Peak? Were we too obvious?”
“No, if anything, Peak thinks too highly of me.” Domenic paced as he struggled to find the words for their conversation. His chest felt oddly tight. “Peak said some things that sort of freaked me out, though.”
“Like what?”
“All this stuff about duty, sacrifice. I don’t think he meant to sound so dark. But…” He trailed off as Ellery’s anxious expression began to mirror his own. “Actually, never mind. It was probably all in my head.” He didn’t trust himself when he was like this.
“I’ve been nervous since our briefing, too,” she said softly.
For once, Domenic didn’t know if it was better or worse that they felt the same.
He managed a smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fill of duty for today.”
He grabbed her wrists and tugged her to standing. Swiftly, she slid her arms around his shoulders, pressed against him until their every slope and angle seemed to slot together.
“So have I,” she whispered.
Finally,finally,he kissed her again, and as soon as their lips met, he felt as if he was resurfacing from beneath an undertow,as if he hadn’t breathed since the air he’d last drawn from her. And even as he braced for it, he still gasped as the chill of her magic jetted through his core. It felt like a blast of wind from a thousand feet of free fall. It felt like a meteoric plunge into ice water. His own magic flared, but he didn’t dare break away. Because now that he knew how it felt to kiss Ellery Caldwell, his survival instincts had been rewritten.
Ellery’s hips moved against his, and Domenic was grateful to have her to lean against, otherwise his legs might’ve given out beneath him. Her mouth traced his jaw until she found the pulse point below his ear, pounding with adrenaline. Her nails skimmed the grooves of his spine, the strip of exposed skin above his waistband, the hook of his belt loop—
Without reason, his panic kindled again, and Domenic cursed himself. For weeks, he’d been better, and he refused to ruin this. Not just because of how long he’d fantasized about Ellery Caldwell, but because none of the girls he’d kissed had ever looked at him like she did. Like she saw him, all of him. And yet she wanted him anyway.
She guided him to the bed, and Domenic lay atop her, one hand propped against the mattress while the other wove into her hair. It took restraint not to rush, but he wanted to savor this. All the more, he didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. She knew his reputation, and even if that version of himself had died the moment he’d grasped Valmordion, he didn’t want her to think he expected anything, that he hurried because it all meant so little to him.
Ellery, however, had no such qualms. Her mouth barely broke for air. Her touches barely lingered on one place of him before reaching for the next.
She was afraid, too.
But he didn’t acknowledge it. Not until her hands pressed against his bare stomach, and he could no longer stop himself. He paused, shivering, his forehead against hers.
“Swear to me you believe in us,” he gasped.
