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Braxton inhales a ragged breath and looks around the room, his gaze skittering from object to object in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at me.
“I see.” He shuts his eyes, scrubs a hand across his face. “Killian was part of your Fade.”
“You said you understood—that I wasn’t to blame.” My voice pitches higher than I would’ve liked, but I won’t allow him to fault me for a phenomenon beyond my control.
“I don’t blame you.” Finally, his gaze lands on mine. “Truly. I don’t. Killian, on the other hand…he’s a whole other story.”
“But that’s the thing,” I say. “Killian was caught in the Fade too. He had no idea what time he was from, and—” Too late, I realize waging a defense for Killian is the opposite of what Braxton wants me to do.
I watch as his lips tug down at the sides, hinting at something dark and unknown. “And you know that because…”
I shrug. Toss the Union Jack pillow onto the floor, leaving myself vulnerable and bare, but the choice is his whether to believe me or not. “Look—I don’t know what you want me to say. All I know is what I experienced, and it was real to me.”
“I’m sure it was.” Braxton sighs, his fingers clenching as though grasping for something just out of his reach. “Killian has a gift for convincing people of all sorts of things. Despite what may have happened between you, you don’t know him like I do.”
I’m getting tired of this. Tired of this cloak-and-dagger rivalry between them that started long before me. Which is probably why I make the mistake of saying, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he feels the same way about you.”
“Meaning?” Braxton’s sharp gaze cuts right through me.
I breathe an exasperated sigh. The truth is, I don’t even know what it means. I don’t know what any of this means, other than Killian clearly alluded to something about not trusting Braxton.
And Song did the same when she warned me that I didn’t really know Braxton as well as I thought—that I haven’t been here long enough to hear all the stories.
Clearly, Song was right about one thing—these halls really are brimming with shadows and mysteries, all of which are unknown to me. Including that book I saw in her room—the one she clearly didn’t want me to see—the one I’m pretty sure I saw the girl holding in the Unraveling.
Could the girl have been Song? Or Anjou? Or—
I shake my head and return to Braxton. “Did you know Song is missing?” I say, studying his face, curious to see how he’ll react to the news.
I’m about to voice some of my growing suspicions when he mumbles some distracted reply about that being the risk of Tripping. He’s clearly so obsessed with thoughts of Killian, he doesn’t even bother to drum up a more appropriate, compassionate response.
“Is that how you would’ve reacted ifI’dgone missing?” It’s a cheap shot, but at least it works to get his attention.
He whips his head around to look at me. “No! Of course not. Just the thought of it—” He rakes a hand through his hair. His eyes glinting with pain. “How could you say such a thing?”
“Killian helped me escape,” I tell him.
Braxton won’t budge. Won’t even listen. His face, like his voice, is pure bitterness when he says, “I’m sure he did.”
