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MIA

How do you get back to classes after this? After this blow which is as much about the pain Sindri has gone through as the twist brought on by his unlikely rescuer.

I can still see in my memory the look on Sindri’s face at the door of the office—the bruised mouth, the streaks of blood on his chin, the blackened eyes, the red, raw lines around his neck and wrists from some sort of rope, the way he held himself very straight and still which, knowing him, means he was in a great deal of pain.

No, more than that. That he was terrified the pain would come back. That someone would snatch him again, take him back there.

And there’s nothing I can do. Not while he refuses to see me and Ashton.

They must have used up every minute of their time to beat him up. Those elder assholes. Just how bad is it? I have to know.

We failed him. I know it’s not rational to think so—it happened so fast and we were distracted with Ashton’s sister coming and the fight between Jason and Emrys.

Still. I do blame myself. Just like Ashton does. And that’s not why I want to touch Sindri, hold him.

It’s because I love him.

I know that now. I can utter the word, hear it in my mind. It’s clear as day. Ilovethem. All four of them. And I don’t see how to get them back. Jason, Emrys, and now… Now I feel that we’re about to lose Sindri, too.

“I wonder where his loyalty lies now…”

No, I don’t accept that. I’ll fight it, like Ashton said.

But Art class comes and goes and Sindri isn’t there. Nor is he in Astronomy class. No balls of paper hitting me in the back, no sharp, teasing grin directed at me. His hand is not wrapped around mine, his soft, rasping voice isn’t in my ear.

I miss him more than Jason and Emrys, I realize, because he got closer, snug against my heart in the past week. Like Ashton, he stayed with me, admitted to feelings that surprised him, opened his heart.

And now he seems to be sinking and no lifeline seems strong enough to pull him out.

We tried, Ash and I. Yesterday. Trailing after him as he’d started toward the dormitories, dragging one leg a little, face set in stone. Asking him what happened, how the elder got him—Sindri has power, even if his demonblood is pretty much depleted right now—and how Ophelia knew to go for him.

Asking what happened in that basement. I mean, time in the Academy flows so much more slowly. He can’t have been a prisoner for more than a few minutes. All this is making less and less sense.

He’d slammed the door in our faces and locked it.

And then, when we knocked on it, we realized he had also slammed a quick ward on it. It would take quite a bit of magic to force it open.

Forcing Sindri to do anything, especially now, isn’t on my list. Not after this.

He worries me so much.

And that’s after hearing Emrys’ little story and wondering what else Sindri hasn’t told us. What stories the other three have. In just how many ways are they going to break my heart without even trying, without even replying to my question?

It’s crazy that a question about whether they have killed people seems inconsequential in the face of what is going on. It can’t be inconsequential. It’s frigging important.

Sighing, I rub at my eyes. Even wrapped up in Ash last night I couldn’t sleep a wink and I think he couldn’t, either.

In History class, Ashton sits next to me and is silent throughout. The teacher tries to draw him out, asks him questions he’d normally answer without prompting, but Ashton only shakes his head. He has dark circles under his eyes.

“I should have been able to contain my blood hunger,” he tells me after the class is over, slinging his unopened backpack over one broad shoulder. “We should have gone after him right away.”

“We counted on the time-slowing spell. Don’t blame yourself any more, Ash.”

He clenches his jaw. “Going to the library. Somewhere in all those goddamn books there has to be an answer on how to break the spell Ophelia had the shooter place on us and her enchantment. Maybe it’s time I asked for an audience with an elder of my race, too.”

“Ash, no. They’re waiting to kill you.”

He seems to be chewing on a curse but says nothing more, instead nodding a goodbye and heading out of the classroom.

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