Spinning on my heel, I come face-to-face with the one person I need like my next breath of air. His hardened features take Finnley in from head to toe before turning to me and instantly softening. Warmth coats my cheeks just from being the focal point of his intense stare.
This is getting out of hand. I need to man up and make a move or stop pining for him. I can’t live in this in-between for the rest of my life.
It’s excruciating.
The thought of staying in this stagnant place of constant want, mixed with the fear of rejection, causes my heart to physically hurt. The only thing worse would be for me to confess my feelings only to find out it’s all one-sided.
That would not be survivable.
He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. As he pulls his hand back, his thumb gently caresses the side of my face and the rough calluses on his palms scratch my cheek. Is he just as torn as I am, and the danger I’m about to face is bringing it all to the surface? Or am I reading too much into it and seeing what I want to see?
He grips my jaw, forcing my head to tilt back. “I miss seeing you under better circumstances,” he says in a teasing tone.
I miss seeing him altogether, but I’ll refrain from saying that. “Yeah, it tends to be more fun when one of us isn’t fighting for our lives.”
“Who’s he?” he demands, turning his head and looking directly at Finnley.
“Heis standing right here,” Finnley drawls. His arms are folded across his chest, and his eyes move from me to Ambrose and back again. He lifts a brow, waiting for an introduction.
“This is Finnley. Finnley, meet Ambrose.”
I keep it short and sweet. That’s all we have time for.
Finnley throws a lazy smile toward Ambrose. It could be deemed innocent, but I know him well enough to know it’s full of gloat and dripping with antagonization.
Ambrose’s lips draw together in a thin line. Apparently, it’s somewhat obvious after all.
He turns toward me, giving Finnley his back, and cranes his neck down to look into my eyes. “I’ll do everything I can to be at the finish line when you cross—"
“Whenwecross,” Finnley interjects over Ambrose’s shoulder.
“—but if I’m not, just know that someone is filling me in the moment you step foot outside those walls.”
It guts me to think he might not be there when I complete the last trial of Asylamation. I know it’s not up to him, that we’re expected not to ask questions when they say jump, just start fucking jumping. It still sucks, though. When I cross that line, it’s the first time I’m on the same playing field as him, an actual student at the academy. He should be there to see it happen. To support me in not dying, at the very least.
Instead of saying all of this, I just give him a subtle nod.
Bury it deep down and keep going.
My insides feel like they’re in knots, but I’m good at pretending everything is okay. “I’ll see you on the other side,” I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing.
A loud sigh comes from Finnley. “Well, if you two aren’t going to kiss, then we’d better get a move on,” he states matter-of-factly.
Ambrose turns slightly toward him, and I take the opportunity to shoot daggers at him with my eyes, promising a slow, torturous death. “You’d better take care of her in there, or I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again.”
He doesn’t acknowledge the kiss comment.
“You can’t do that.” Finnley laughs before stopping altogether at the look in Ambrose’s eyes. He gulps and looks at me, slightly terrified. “Can he do that?”
“That would require dark magic, something you wouldn’t catch a Veil touching,” I answer evenly, although at the moment, murdering him and bringing him back to life sounds like a grand idea. I tuck that little dark tendency away with everything else and squeeze Ambrose’s hand tightly. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Pinky.”
There’s a strain in my voice, but I’m proud of myself for it not wobbling as I hold up my pinky finger on my other hand.
What if this is the last time I see him? The last time I get to stare into those clear blue eyes or at the wide smile that I’ve been on the receiving end of too many times to count.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Nori,” he promises in an agonized tone.
I know it kills him that he’s so helpless right now when it comes to me. He raises his hand, looping his much larger pinky with my smaller one, sealing our promise.
