It ended much faster than it began. One second he was kneeling on the floor, kissing me, the next he stood and backed away, leaving me suddenly cold and struggling to hold myself up.

“Sorry,” he said.

I blinked once, twice, my head swimming with sensation and emotional overload. He was sorry? What for? He was acting like there was something wrong with kissing me. Or maybe the kiss had been bad.

I stopped that train of thought before it could continue any further down the tracks. I was already straddling the crazy line as it was. The last thing I needed was that kind of self-doubt. I’d kissed boys before him, and no one had ever complained.

But none of them were Eli.

Shut up.

I started to push myself up, nearly slipped, but then felt Eli’s hand on my arm, steadying me.

“Are you okay?” he said.

I pulled away from him, refusing to look in his eyes, afraid of what I might find there. I turned and sat down on the sofa, dropping my head into my hands. Now that the thrill of the kiss was gone, the pounding had returned full force, made even worse by my embarrassment.

“Why are you sorry?”

Eli shook his head. “It was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. You’re hurt … and…”

“Oh, okay,” I said, still embarrassed and wanting the subject over.

He sat down beside me, keeping a careful distance between us. “So what happened?”

“I … I don’t know.” I ran both hands through my hair, relishing the pain in my skull as my fingers caught on snags. “But that place with the tower and the plinth … I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

I turned my head toward him, risking a glance. But he didn’t seem embarrassed or flustered at all. The kiss might never have happened. His expression registered only concern and interest.

“In my dreams,” I said. “Last night and a couple of times before, I think.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” He leaned back against the sofa, his hands falling into his lap. “That’s pretty crazy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I crossed my arms and leaned back, too, hating the distance between us and yet wishing it was bigger. I wanted to be worried only about the dream, but that kiss and his reaction to it kept trying to press its way to the forefront of my mind. Was he really sorry simply because I was hurt and he thought it bad timing?

“Have you told Lady Elaine about the dreams?” Eli said.

“No, of course not.” An odd possessive feeling came over me at the idea, one I didn’t understand but couldn’t deny. They were my dreams and nobody’s business but my own. The word on that plinth was meant for me; I could sense it. A tinge of resentment went through me at the knowledge that Eli had seen it. I wished I could take it back. Never mind that he was forced to share his dreams with me time and time again. That dream was different. I knew it, and I could tell by Eli’s tense silence that he knew it, too.

“Well,” he said, stretching out his hand to pat my knee, “we’ll have better luck next time.”

“Sure.” I tried not to tense at his touch. It was hard. My lips still felt wet and swollen from our kiss. Sorry, he had said. Sorry.

So was I.

10

Mind Games

Paul Kirkwood returned to Arkwell the very next day. I spotted him walking down the cafeteria hallway before breakfast. At first I didn’t recognize the tall boy with the short-cropped blond hair and lean, serious face. Then it struck me, and I pictured a ponytail and flyaway hairs on the boy’s head. Of course they would’ve shaved his head in jail. In some matters, magickind liked to emulate the ways of the ordinary world.

I stumbled to a halt, limbs numb. Paul’s eyes locked on mine, and my heart seemed to plunge into my stomach. For a second, I hoped he didn’t recognize me. We were still so far away; I must look different, too. But recognition lit his expression. He didn’t smile or wave. He froze in place as if seeing me was as much a shock to him as it was to me.

I ripped my gaze away from him, spun on my heel, and darted into the girl’s restroom. My heart had clambered up my throat now, my pulse a flurry of beating wings beneath my breastbone. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t think I would ever be ready.

I turned to the nearest sink, twisted on the cold water, and splashed my face. At least I didn’t have to worry about smearing my makeup. I wasn’t wearing any. It had been well past midnight by the time I returned to my dorm, and I’d barely slept afterward. When I woke this morning, I was too tired for mascara.

I looked down at my outfit, a hastily donned long-sleeved T-shirt of a colorless gray and a pair of loose-fitting jeans over sneakers. I couldn’t face Paul looking like this. Why hadn’t anyone warned me he would be here? A girl needed the right clothes, let alone makeup, to face her murderous apprentice ex-boyfriend with any kind of confidence.

For a second, I thought I might be sick, but then the door opened behind me, and Selene’s voice said, “Dusty?”

I faced her, feeling considerably calmer in her presence.

She frowned at the sight of me, her lower lip sticking out in something close to a pout. “You’re not seriously going to let him affect you like that, are you?”

I swallowed guiltily and then felt a flicker of anger. Both at her for pointing out my weakness and at me for letting it happen. She was right. The more I allowed him to bother me, the more he won. I refused to let him.