“See you later?” she says. “And don’t bother telling me not to wait up, because I will.”
I manage a smile and tell her okay, and she takes her leave, a candy-pink figure that I watch get smaller and smaller across the snow until she’s really and truly gone.
Now we are alone.
Kingston clears his throat again. For the first time, it occurs to me—is he nervous?
No. Stupid. Stupid thing for me to think, and stupid thing for him to be.
He has norightto be nervous.
Me, I don’t know what to do, where to go. I adjust my weight, the tang of night air sharp in my nose as I look from building to building, option A to option B.
Seeing my movement, Kingston takes a step toward the leftmost path. I look at him, alarmed, and those golden eyes meet mine.
No.
I look away.
“It’s below freezing,” he says.
Like I can’t tell. “Where are you going?”
He frowns.
“The dining hall,” he says. “I suppose you want to eat?”
You suppose wrong,I think. My stomach feels like a giant knot. “No. I’m…not hungry.”
Kingston presses his lips together, like somehow this is impolite of me, or like I’m thwarting some precise schedule he’s drawn up in his mind. But he says nothing, only nods.
“All right.” Kingston clasps his hands behind his back. “What, then?”
He’s still, at firm attention and unmoving except for a gust of wind that ruffles the front of his hair. And I’m not sure why, but something about that is deeply satisfying to me—watching those few golden strands lift and move.You can’t control everything, Kingston. You can’t control thewind. Take that.
I stand still, too.
What, then? I don’t know. I don’t want to make a decision on the spot. I don’t want to have to do it infrontof someone. I just want to exist, for one fucking second, without justification. And the longer I stand there, the more the steady hold of his gaze feels like it’s stifling me. The familiar feeling of being not just seen or noticed, but observed.
A thought hits me.
I am literally going to be watched, 24/7, for the foreseeable future.
A cool wave of despair rolls over my skin.
“Gwenna?” Kingston says. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I snap. “Yes, I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m never fine. But that’s so far beyond the point now.
“Library,” I say at last. “I need to…catch up. Is that okay?”
Kingston blinks. “You don’t need my permission to?—”
Great. I set off on the footpath towards the library.
Hurried steps ring out behind me as Kingston catches up. We pass people in the gold patches of light thrown by the streetlamps; heads turn and whispers slip through the air.
