I keep my hand on her face. “Directed force. Projected outward. Aimed.”
She is quiet. Her eyes on mine.
“What is it?”
I let my thumb trace her cheekbone.
“It’s telekinesis. Seraphina confirmed it today. The bond is the conduit.”
“I’m not surprised,” she says.
“Why not?”
“The bond is changing you the way it changed me.”
“Slower.”
“You’re centuries old. Everything you do is slower.”
I laugh. In the dream, the sound is different. Younger. Lighter.
One corner of her mouth lifts and she leans into my hand.
“How long have you known?” she asks.
I don’t answer fast enough.
“Maximus.” Her voice sharpens.
“How long?”
“Since Erik’s territory.”
Several heartbeats of silence.
The stars overhead hold their place, and Celeste’s face doesn’t move, and the sharpening in her eyes is a blade I earned.
“You promised me no more walls.”
“I know.”
“This counts.”
Her hand comes up and covers mine where it rests on her cheek.
Her fingers press into my knuckles, and every ridge of the M and C crest presses between our palms.
“We had this fight already,” she says. Her voice is controlled, but the edges aren’t. “And you did exactly what I did. Kept something alone. Waited to understand it before bringing it to me.”
I have no answer that isn’t the truth, and the truth is that she is right.
“Don’t do it again.”
Her grip on my hand doesn’t loosen.
The forgiveness in it is harder than anger. Anger burns out. This stays. She is choosing to hold on.
“I won’t,” I say.
