“He and Yuki are out playing in the snow.” Her lips pull up a bit on one side. “I figured you’d be more willing to talk if Raelan wasn’t here, so I sent him away for a bit.”
A short laugh slips out of me. “I’m surprised he allowed that.”
Her expression softens. “Raelan knows you’re upset. He cares about you too.” Alina settles herself into the window near my feet, leaning back and turning her gaze to the frosted woods outside. “So, are you ready to talk about it?”
I cross my arms. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Alina flicks her gaze at me. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Act like I don’t know you, like you can hide your feelings from me. You can’t, you know. You wear everything on your sleeve, even if you pretend like you don’t. And I know you’re sad and mad about something. Please tell me what it is.” She reaches out and puts a hand on my knee. Her sky-blue eyes hold my gaze, imploring, begging.
“You could just order me to tell you,Princess,” I grumble.
Alina smiles. “I could. But you still wouldn’t listen to me.”
My shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “That’s true.”
“She’s worried about you,” Juniper says from beside me. She crawls up into my lap, then up to perch on my knee so she can look me right in the eye. “Alina’s your friend. It’s okay to let her in.”
Now both Alina and Juniper are staring at me. Looks like there’ll be no worming my way out of this one.
“Fine,” I grumble, then let out a whooshing sigh. Juniper squeaks approvingly and jumps off my knee to go look out the window again. I focus on Alina. “I found out Cairn applied for a job at the conservatory.”
Alina tips her head. “You mean the Columbine Conservatory? In Wysteria?”
I nod.
“It’s beautiful there. My father and I used to go every year when I was young.” She smiles like she’s reliving a fond memory. Then she asks, “But what’s wrong with that?”
“If he gets the job, he’ll leave.” As emotions rise in my chest, I clutch the sleeves of my sweater in my fists. “And I’m not good with people leaving...”
Understanding glistens in Alina’s eyes. Without warning, she leans forward and wraps me in a hug. I go stiff at first—I’ve never been one for physical affection—but she just keeps holding on, and slowly, my body relaxes.
“Him leaving the academy to get a job doesn’t mean he’s leavingyou,” she says, her breath rustling my hair. “It just means he’s trying to do something good for himself. And maybe even for you too.”
“How is that good for me?” I ask, resting my head against hers, softening to her arms around me.
Alina squeezes me again, then sits back slowly so she can look into my eyes. “Because maybe then you can actually be together. You know that so long as he’s here, you can’t be seen publicly together—at least, not romantically.” Alina finds one of my hands and takes it in hers, unwrapping my tight fist so she can hold my fingers. “That’s not a real relationship, having to hide how you feel about each other. But if he’s no longer working here...” She gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “Then maybe you can create something real. Something that’ll last.”
Something that’ll last.
I think, in some ways, I’ve been looking for that since my mother left. She taught me that even the things that are supposed to be there forever can walk out the door at anymoment, can choose to leave you behind in search of something bigger and better—or just different.
And this job at the conservatory, it feels bigger and better. Of course Cairn would want something like that. But will he still want me? That I’m not so sure about.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I say, pulling my hand from Alina’s and turning to look out at the snow clinging to the tops of the pine trees.
Alina goes quiet for a while. Maybe she’s mad at me. I’ve never been good at friendships. I’ve never been good at any sort of relationship, except with Papa and Juniper.
But then she just says, “Raelan and I are going to spend part of the holiday at that little cottage—you know, the one I told you about?”
“The one you found together after that mess with Tristan?”
In my periphery, she wrinkles her nose, maybe remembering that evening and the events that followed. “He’ll be getting out of prison soon,” she says. “Warren, I mean.”
Warren, right. I forget sometimes that Tristan wasn’t even his real name. The Veiled Hand like to be secretive that way.
