“You let me believe that family would die,” I say.
“And look how well you did because of it. You were in total control out there.”
Ms. Suntile hands him a towel, and he holds it up to his face.
“You should get that checked out,” I say.
I turn and walk out of the dining hall. The weight of hundreds of eyes follows me.
I rush to my cabin, and as soon as I’m inside, I hold my crushed hand to my chest. All the adrenaline drains out of my system. I scream.
Tears burn my eyes and rush down my cheeks. I grip my aching hand. A large bruise spreads across my knuckles and turns my skin the color of twilight.
I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed with Alice’s memoir. Even though she loved her magic in a way I’m not sure I ever will, her words have become a comfort for me, a security blanket. They’re the first thing I reach for.
I throw the covers off. The cabin is so hot, heat clinging to the stale air as if the Sun herself resides here. It intensifies the musty smell.
Nox runs in through the cat door and launches himself onto the bed.
“It’s so good to see you,” I say, pulling him close to my chest. He wriggles away and walks on top of my side, purring.
There’s a knock at the door. I don’t say anything, but Sang steps inside anyway. He’s carrying a bag of ice and some crushed lavender. I give him a grateful look and set the book aside.
He pulls over a chair, and I place my hand down in front of him without saying anything.
“Clara,” he starts, and I think he’s about to reprimand me for punching his mentor. But he doesn’t. “That was amazing. I wish you could have seen what happened after you left. There was just this bewildered silence, then Mr. Burrows walked out and the whole room erupted into conversation.”
“I admit it would have been better to do that in private.”
“Maybe,” Sang says, wrapping the ice in a towel. “But it was pretty spectacular as it was.”
We’re both quiet for a minute.
“That test—it was too big a risk,” Sang says. “He couldn’t have known for sure that the shaders would survive.”
“You didn’t think I’d save them?” I ask, my tone playful, trying to lighten the mood.
“I don’t gamble with people’s lives,” he says. “But if I did, I’d put my money on you.” He looks up at me. “Every. Single. Time.”
Sang is gently holding the bag of ice against my hand, but I swear I can feel his fingers as if the bag doesn’t exist.
His words are so genuine I have to look away.
I remind myself that I just went through something traumatic. The way my insides tighten when he looks at me like this, the way I want him near—it isn’t real.
It can’t be real.
It’s a product of going through an awful experience and having him here at the end of it.
I clear my throat. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to hit him,” I say, another attempt to make the space between us lighter.
He smiles this time. “Nah, I saw the look in your eyes and knew you had it.”
We both look down at my bruised hand. And at the exact same moment, we burst out laughing.
“The horror on Ms. Suntile’s face…” Sang starts, but he can’t get the rest of the sentence out.
“I’m such a mess,” I say, still laughing.
I punched a teacher in the face. In front of the entire school.
“A mess is something that needs to be cleaned up. You’re not a mess.” He looks at me then, and his face turns oddly serious. He is no longer laughing. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Sang gently places the lavender on my skin. It reminds me of the day we met, when he helped me after the tornado.
Before he was assigned to train me.
Before trusting him wasn’t so complicated.
I used to think Sang’s openness was a way to manipulate me, to wield power over me the way Eastern and Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows do.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe what Sang wants isn’t power.
Maybe it’s to help me regain all the power I’ve ever given away.
“I am?” My voice is quiet.
“You are the most magnificently disruptive thing that’s ever entered my life.”
I stare at him, stunned by his words. I swallow hard. “What happened to that bit about the sleeping orange and only opening up if someone tries to see you? You’re an open book with me.” I say it lightly, like a joke, trying to clear the air of what he just said.
But it doesn’t help. His words slide into my core and drop anchor, securing themselves to me forever.
I’m not a mess. I’m a force. A magnificently disruptive force.
“I feel seen by you.” He says it simply, as if it’s obvious and not an incredible admission.
But the thing that terrifies me, that makes me want to run from this room, isn’t that Sang feels seen by me.
It’s that I feel seen by him.
“I think I should probably get some rest,” I say.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Sang finishes wrapping my hand with the lavender and puts some extra on my bedside table. “Sleep with this on. It’ll help keep the swelling down.”
I nod.
Sang scratches Nox on the head, turns on my fan, and heads to the door.
“Hey, Sang?”
He turns to look at me. The floor creaks beneath his weight.
“Thank you.”
He smiles and shuts the door behind him. I feel his absence as soon as he leaves, a heaviness that makes me question what he is to me.
But I can’t question it. He can’t be anything to me.
I’m making progress with him, more progress than I’ve ever made with anyone. And that’s when I realize that what I’m feeling is nothing more than gratitude for helping me get stronger. Respect for his patience with me. Appreciation for his own abilities.
That’s it.
I need to rest. I close my
