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God, my name on his lips sends a hot shiver through me. “Yes?”
He rubs at his eyes. “I’m going to fail French.”
“And I told you, you should ask Ash for help.”
“Ash is fucking mad at me.”
“He’s not. You saved his life last night.”
He leans back, stops suddenly with a gasp, presses a hand to his middle. “Forgot about that.”
“Jax… Let me see.” I’m by his side in a split second, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. He looks down as I lift it, revealing the bandage wrapping over his stomach and side. It’s spotted with fresh blood.
“Damn…” he breathes.
“You need to go to the infirmary. Check the stitches. Change the bandage.”
“I’m good.” He pulls his T-shirt back down.
“Jax—”
“I heal fast. And I got a high pain threshold. So chill out.”
I won’t ask how he knows that. I think again of the whipping scars on his back and shoulders, of his nightmares, and shudder.
“Are you coming?” I ask instead.
“Go ahead.” He closes his eyes. “I think I’ll stay here for a bit.”
Biting the inside of my cheek not to ask again how he feels, not to tell him to go back to bed, I turn around and leave the classroom. Why is it so hard to convince myself that his welfare is none of my business anymore?
Sindri isn’t in Art class, and time drags there, too. I keep glancing at the door, expecting him to walk in like Jason had, but he’s probably asleep. Which is the smart thing to do.
Something jabs at my chest whenever I think of Sindri. I think I sense his magic, like a breath of air, like the metallic taste of lightning I’ve come to associate with it. I sense pain, fear.
Or I’m imagining it because I’d expected to see him and he’s not here. I need to chill, like Jason said.
Then I have trigonometry which hurts—I really don’t get math—and then physics which isn’t much better. By the time lunch break rolls around, I’m ready to call it a day.
Too bad I have classes in the afternoon, too.
I’m not hungry but my steps lead me to the refectory anyway. I haven’t seen the other boys today, not since Emrys left my room this morning and Jason showed up in French class.
Entering the refectory, I don’t see any of them. At least, I don’t see Ophelia, either, which is a relief. I need a moment to regroup. Maybe food will help clear the cobwebs from my brain.
I get my tray and load up on pasta because I’m a sucker for it as it turns out, and I think the day might be looking up—until I find Melissa in front of me.
I step back, clutching my tray. “What do you want?”
“We should talk.”
“No, we really shouldn’t. I think we’ve said all there is to be said.”
“You really think that? With that other witch appearing out of the blue? Is it true she’s your cousin?”
I shrug. “I’m adopted.”
“So no blood ties bind you?”
