Page 93 of The Amber Sunburst

“We’re leaving,” Eudoxos confirms. “Kleitos is… blackmailing me, basically. I have no choice. I have to go.”

“And you’re going with him?” Alexander asks the other two.

“Yeah, they’re coming with me,” Eudoxos says, brushing it aside. “But, Alexander. You can’t tell anyone, okay? You have to promise me.”

“I—I don’t…” he starts.

“Don’t worry. You won’t get into trouble. No one will think that you heard anything.”

“What does Kleitos know?” Alexander blurts.

Eudoxos sighs like it physically pains him, then sticks his hand out for a shake. “Eudoxia.”

It takes an embarrassingly long moment for Alexander’s high school Latin to kick in. Eudoxia, the feminine ending. He takes Eudoxos—no—Eudoxia’s hand.

The weirdest part of it all is that this discovery isn’t weird. It makes enough sense that he can’t understand how he didn’t see it earlier.

“So this is why you’re leaving? He’ll report you for pretending to be… like, a boy?”

Zeno opens his mouth to add on, but Eudoxia stops him with a hand in the air. “The punishments are steeper here than you might think. So, yeah.”

“Right,” Alexander says, backing toward the door. He needs to talk to Kallias. “Okay, well, I have to go… But good luck with all this.”

It doesn’t dawn on him that his friends will find his immediate exit suspicious until he starts making it.

“Wait, Alex,” Zeno says in a placating tone, “you don’t have to go anywhere, okay? Just stay here, and we can talk it out.”

“I’m not going to tell on you, I swear. I just… I need to talk to someone. Stay here, all of you. I’ll be back.”

“Alexander, wait,” Zeno calls out behind him.

On his way out, he hears a shouted “Shit!” and the sound of someone kicking a wall hard. Eudoxia really is stronger than she looks.

Alexander sprints three doors down to Kallias’ room. He knocks once, and when he’s met with silence, he hits the door frantically. The rooms may be soundproof, but, somehow, noise always makes it through the door, so he knows Kallias can hear him.

After ten seconds of furious banging, the door swings open to show a very sleepy-looking Kallias. And also a very shirtless Kallias.

Shirtless Kallias is definitely a… good Kallias. His skin is pale but not too pale, and a flush paints his throat and cheeks.

And sleepy Kallias? With pillow creases and bed hair and squinting eyes? He doesn’t even have the words for that.

“Kallias,” he greets.

Why is he here again?

“Alexander,” Kallias replies.

Oh, right.

“Kallias,” Alexander repeats. “We need to talk.”

Alexander slips into the room through the gap between Kallias and the doorframe, and behind him he hears Kallias mumble, “Yeah, sure. Come right in. Thanks for asking.”

The room is neat, with a small bed in the corner, a balcony overlooking the sea, some food containers on the desk, and not much else. Like Kallias did everything he could to avoid giving it a personality.

Kallias sighs and leans against his door. It makes Alexander want to box him in and push him against the wall and—Christ!

Kallias really needs to put on a shirt.