“Oh, that was nothing? Well, how about we put the way you look at him and how he stares at you together with his crusade to ensure you are trained and protected? I’d say you need to work on why you’re trying todenywhat everyone can see. Which is not, nothing.” Every word is laced with humour and mirth, and she beams at me.
“Fine. Okay. I like him.”
“Is this why you were asking about touch the other day?” Her eyes shoot wide.
“Maybe. But it’s complicated.”
“Because of you being a Fifth, or something else?”
“Well, partly that.” I weigh up telling her everything and decide that to make true friends here, trust is needed. It isn’t fair for me to demand that without showing it in return.
Kyra has done nothing but be supportive. And she’s the only one I’d consider being close enough to share this kind of conversation with.
So, I fill her in.
The visions before the Transference, after the training, practice, and what happens when we do touch. I don’t elaborate other than saying we didn’t touch skin-to-skin, and that it helped dull our power. But I don’t skip the details he hid from me, and what he suspects his father knows about my parents.
It all races out of me as if it’s been building up, waiting for release.
Kyra just listens, smiling and grinning and moving herself closer when I tell her about the waterfall and the kiss. I keep the more intimate details and the fact that we can talk inside each other’s minds and project visions to myself.
And, while I have nothing to compare it to, I imagine this to be one of the most normal things I’ve done since arriving here. Sharing the excitement of feelings for a boy with a friend.
My heart drifts to Lyle, and I wonder if I’d have found the same warmth and comfort from her. Probably. I know I’d be excited to tell her, but maybe a little more nervous about spilling the details.
“What’s that look for?” Kyra asks. “You’ve been grinning and practically glowing as you’ve filled me in, and now…”
“I was thinking about Lyle. I miss her, and kind of thought I’d be sharing things like this with her. And that maybe she did know more than she let on?” I look at Kyra as if she holds the answers I seek.
“Well, I know that she had a pretty rotten time of it here, especially given her living quarters, and if she did know morethan she said, she had some serious determination to keep it hidden.” Her eyes dart away, and she brings me the plate of snacks that I’d forgotten with Ten in the room.
I take one of the slices of bread and sink my teeth into the generous spread of butter that’s just the perfect mix of salt and cream, rich and morish.
“Do you think anyone will let me go and visit her? Or allow her to come back and see me?”
“Not until after the trials, at least. None of the trainees are permitted to leave until after.”
“Will you tell me about your trials? Only if you’re happy to, of course?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you before your trial, but not tonight. Now, I know we’re meant to be practising, but Ten said you’re tired, and the shadows hovering under your eyes do not lie. You’ll have another tough day tomorrow.”
“But we don’t have time for me to figure all of this out, right? I need to be ready?—”
“You need to be strong and not collapse before the first trial has even finished. Sleep, dinner, and you can practise with Micah or Calix. Or maybe Ten will come back again.” Her voice dances at the end.
“Stop it. I have to practise with him, too. I just don’t want him to be in pain all the time.” I take another bite of bread.
“Ten’s powerful, Ever. Remember that. And I know you haven’t forgotten his father or what happened the first time you met him. I don’t think anyone is under the illusion they can get Aten or Orion Ciro to do anything they don’t already want to do.”
I finish my bread, mulling over her words. She seems to see them both in the same light, but I’ve always noted their differences or hoped they would be different.
“Now, nap. Rest. We can catch up tomorrow, but I like that we can chat boys, too.”
“Maybe I can return the favour and be the one to listen to your problems next time.”
She pauses, considering. “We’ll see.” All the light vanishes from her voice at that suggestion, and I want to ask her what happened, sensing that there might be a story there, maybe not a happy one.
“Tomorrow, then.”
