“Of course.” Gregor nods. “We have a pretty good system. I think she understands me.”
I’m not sure about that last part. But if he has hope, then so will I. “Thank you.”
I head back to Kaelis’s apartments, and I find him in the dining room, taking his breakfast. He looks up the moment I enter.
“You’re back in less than a day,” he says, lounging in his chair. “Be careful, Clara. I might get used to this.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. I need to go out, and I need less flashy clothes to do it in. I assume you have some, you hoarder.”
His expression shifts. Still amused, but slightly more alert. “Out?”
“Yes,” I say a little more firmly. “There’s something I need to check on.”
Kaelis tilts his head. “I’m certain you mean ‘somethingweneed to check on.’ ”
“I’m doing this alone.” I fold my arms. He looks at me with a dull expression that reads asYou can’t be serious.So I respond with a clear “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He stands, the casual charm slipping just slightly. “We have no proof your new disguise will hold up.”
“Gregor didn’t recognize me. That’s a pretty good endorsement.”
“And pretty low stakes.” He shifts, pushing his chair out slightly, grabbing the arms and relaxing his hands, as if holding court with a subject and not…whatever I am to him. “You’re willing to risk being identified for whatever this is?”
“I’m going to have to try it eventually. Wasn’t that the point of all this?” I gesture to myself.
He glances away. “That’s true, but I would prefer to be there if something goes wrong.”
“And you are so much less conspicuous than me.” My words are steeped in sarcasm. “You draw more attention with your cheekbones than I would if I was still walking around in my prison garb.”
His lips twitch, as if fighting a smile. “You think my cheekbones are that noteworthy?”
“By the Twenty,” I murmur with a sigh.
“I’ll lag behind,” he offers as a compromise. “Conceal myself and shadow you from a distance, just to make sure everything goes well.”
“It still seems like too much of a risk.”
“Indulge me.” His tone softens, taking on a serious note.
I exhale. “Fine. But a hundred paces. Minimum.”
He grins. “Sixty.”
“Eighty.”
“Deal.” He gestures toward my old quarters. “Take whatever clothing you like from your rooms. The closet and dresser are both still full for you.”
I freeze mid-step. “Are they…” I can’t finish the question, the struggle I endured to make my new body flashing before my eyes.
“You’ll find them as they were before, not as they have been the past two weeks.” He stands, avoiding my gaze.Two weeks. That means there’s just under a week until the new school year begins. Not much time, but enough to prepare for my plan. “No evidence Rewina or anyone could find.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, watching as he leaves without so much as acknowledging I’ve said anything at all.
I’m slow to move. Slow to make my way across the entry and into that narrow hall that leads to the bedroom. And even slower to push open the doors.
When I do, I brace myself for blood, tools, leftover trauma—despite what he said. But what greets me is…silence. Stillness. The room is exactly as I left it months ago, not some magical surgical center. Four-poster bed. Embroidered rug. A half-used candle I remember lighting ages ago on the windowsill. As if time itself refused to pass.
I’m relieved there’s no evidence, but at the same time, it’s almost as if it never happened at all. As if this was how it was the whole time, and the person I used to be—the form I used to take—was nothing more than a dream. The worst pain of my life should have left a mark. But the room is as unblemished as my skin.
