He stands with his back to me, his forearms resting on the stone parapet as he watches the fireworks explode over his city. The view from this height is indescribable, its beauty almost impossible to behold, but I spare it no more than a passing glance. My eyes are stuck on Penn.
He is still shirtless, clad only in the loose black breeches he wore during the warding ceremony. He must’ve come straight here afterward. I watch his spine stiffen, his shoulders tense, and know he’s heard my uneven gulp of air. Still, he does not turn to face me. He does not acknowledge my presence at all.
I had been sure—so sure, I did not pause to question it—that I would know what to say to him when at last I reached his side. Now that I have, my throat convulses around a lump of useless sentences that seem permanently lodged in my airway. I cannot force them out, no matter how I try.
In the end, it is Penn who speaks.
“You should not be here.”
The utter weariness in his voice catches me off guard. I take a cautious step closer and whisper, “Neither should you.”
His only response is silence.
“Are you all right?”
Again, silence. But the muscles in his shoulders ripple as tension courses through him.
“I was worried,” I admit softly, taking another few steps. My slippers are soundless on the stone. “When you didn’t come tothe festival…I reached out, but I could barely feel your presence through the bond.”
“Recharging the wards drains my maegic nearly to depletion. I’m surprised you can feel me at all.”
“I couldn’t. Not at first. Not until I got closer.”
There is a terse pause. “I assume your highly adept guard detail has no idea where you are at the moment?”
My cheeks flush. “Don’t blame Cadogan or Jac—”
“I shall blame whoever I bloody please,” he snaps. Inhaling slowly, he takes great pains to steady his tone. “You should go back to the party. I’m not fit company for anyone tonight.”
“I’m notanyone. I’m Rhya.”
“All the more reason for you to go.”
“Are you so determined to spend this night in solitude?” I close the rest of the distance between us, coming to stand alongside him at the parapet. In profile, his jaw is set like stone. There are deep shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes. “I thought Fyremas was a night of unity and togetherness.”
He scoffs. “Unity? This, coming from the girl who, at our last exchange, bolted from my presence like it was poison?”
I have no rebuttal. Pressing my lips together, I turn to look out over the city. I’d thought the fireworks were impressive from below, but at this vantage they are incomparable. Breathtaking. They swarm like distant fyrewisps, yellow then blue then red then violet, some giant and lingering, others flaring only for an instant.
Spread out below us, the entire crater is dotted with illumination. Torches and firepits burn from the bustling shores of the lake to the most precipitously perched homes halfway up the cliffs—a galaxy of earthbound stars.
“What upset you?”
Penn’s sudden question makes my head whip his way. “Who says I’m upset?”
“Rhya, your emotions are damn near boiling over. Even with my maegic muted, I can feel you’re close to losing control.” He finally meets my eyes. “So just tell me. What—who—upset you?”
I want to look away, but I am trapped in the dark fire of his stare, trembling beneath the force of it no matter how I lock my knees.
“Yale.”
“I should’ve known.” Penn runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “What did he say?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
Now I do look away. “He doesn’t like me, let’s put it that way.”