“Rupert!”
I pause, heart hammering. I should
have felt her—I did, really. The constant twist in my stomach. I’ve been nauseous for weeks. Then there’s been that moment in the party—when our eyes locked and a sense of connection yanked between us.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyes sweeping over me. “I saw you run out of the room. Did you have a vision?”
“No.” I swallow, forcing my gaze away from the tight, leather pants that leave little to the imagination. “I don’t like parties.”
“Yeah, that one wasn’t my jam either.”
I frown. “Jam? Like what you spread on toast?”
She smiles. “No, like, my scene? My kind of event? I forget you’re like a nine-million-year-old man in the body of a twenty-year-old.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” I swallow. “Also, I’m twenty-one.”
“At least you’re not jailbait,” she mutters. I’m not sure what that means either, but I get the idea. “What are you doing down here?”
“Looking for some peace and quiet. It was very overwhelming up there.”
“Tell me about it. I got cornered by Marshal on the way out.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Did he say anything?”
“He said a lot, but none of it informative.” Her ears turn pink, and I can only imagine what their conversation was about. “I don’t want to talk about Marshal. I want to talk about you. I’d like to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You’re anxious, and you obviously don’t feel well, and it’s pretty clear some of that has to do with the connection between us.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I lie.
“You’re pale and sweaty. All the time. The visions are doing a number on you.”
I stare at the Valkyrie. Her concern is genuine—as far as keeping our unit together. Beyond that, she has no real clue what she’s getting into with us individually. We all carry baggage. Mine is probably more fucked up than the rest. I’m not weighed by guilt like Armin, or fueled by rage like Agis. Miya is lost in a world of self-reflection, and Marshal—well, Marshal is a gluttonous, traitorous pig. That’s not so much baggage as a personality defect. Me? I’m good for one thing only: plotting destruction.
Whatever crosses my path will fall, and I can’t let that happen to Hildi.
“You’re right. Ever since we arrived at the Academy, my visions have intensified. I’m learning how to control them. The best thing you can do for me is give me space.”
Her shoulders square and her hand rests on her hip. She’s an exquisite creature—I understand why Marshal and Armin can’t stop playing with fire. She’s also a bundle of energy—toxic to my soul as much as I’m toxic to hers.
“But what if I can help you work through it.”
“I said no, Hildi.”
“But—”
“No!” The word rips through me, echoing down the hall. “You can’t help me. You can only make it worse. Leave me alone and let me have some peace.”
Her expression falters, just for a second, before it rearranges into a blank canvas. Whatever she’s feeling; anger, humiliation, annoyance…she hides it well.
“Fine,” she says, her voice impassive. “Whatever you want.”
What I want has never been an option. Not in any of my lifetimes.
I don’t tell her that, instead opening the library door. As I step away from her, I’m well aware that the less she knows, the better.