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“What, Ad?” he challenges me. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about this.”
I stare at him, weighing each possible response. They’re all lacking.
“Don’t tell me you’re speechless,” he says. “I know that can’t be true.”
“Erik and I are friends,” I remind him.
It’s definitely the wrong thing to say.
“Really?” he asks, his voice raw. “Looked like a little more than friends to me.”
“We broke up,” I say. “You left me.”
“To find answers. Answers we both need,” Jost says. “Did you run to Erik right away?”
“I didn’t run to Erik.” But in the back of my mind poetry plays. The flash of Erik’s eyes meeting mine. I didn’t run to Erik, but I found him anyway.
“I was gone a few weeks,” he says. “I’ve come back with nothing and then this. Did you do it to prove me wrong?”
“Prove you wrong?” I repeat. It’s impossible that’s what he said. It’s impossible he thinks that’s what has happened in his absence.
“Yes, I told you we couldn’t risk that, so you wanted to prove me wrong. Is that it? Tell me something, Ad, did you choose Erik to see if you could drive us even farther apart or was he the first guy you ran into?”
The accusation cuts through the fragile thread holding me to him.
“So can you still do it? Can you still catch the threads?” he asks. At that moment, I realize that my skill is more important to him than anything else. More important, even, than the fact that he believes I spent the night with Erik. More important than whether we can ever get past this.
The back and forth of the last few months. Feeling so close only to sense a wall between us. My growing friendship with Erik and subsequent guilt. The assumptions and distrust. It all overwhelms the happiness I once felt with Jost. Memories of us, the want I felt for Jost, it’s all washed away as my shame shifts to indignation.
“My talent—that’s all I am to you, isn’t it?”
He stares at me, trying to understand what I’m saying.
“Was I ever more than a Spinster to you?” I ask. “Or did you always see me as a means of revenge?”
His jaw drops open, but he shakes his head. “If you believe that—”
“What am I supposed to believe, Jost?”
“If I made you feel that way, I am sorry,” he says, his expression softening a little. “I wanted to get back to the girls. I wanted to make sure we were safe, so we—”
“Coul
d be a family,” I cut him off. “But you never once asked me if that’s what I wanted. I’m not capable of it. Can’t you see that? I’m a danger to them.”
“I guess I assumed,” he says quietly. “But apparently I assumed too much.”
“Don’t you dare,” I seethe. “Don’t you dare make me feel bad because I needed someone to listen to me. Don’t you dare, Josten Bell.”
“I wouldn’t,” he says.
“And as for my skill”—I spit the word out like it’s rancid—“I wish it were gone. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to put up with any of you anymore.”
“So you’d give up your sister to not have responsibility?” he accuses.
“No, I’m still going to find her. But maybe if I can’t warp or weave, then you guys will be forced to do something useful for once.”
“I am doing something useful. I’ve been out there searching for the Whorl so we can get the girls back before it’s too late. Before time takes them away from us!” Jost grabs my arm, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh.
