Trent still hadn’t moved, and at Jenks’s exasperated motions, I reached out across the table, putting my hand atop his. “We’ll get them back.”

Trent blinked as our hands met, not in shock, but as if bringing himself back from a deep thought. His expression was empty when his eyes touched my hand, and I gave him a smile and a slight squeeze before I pulled away. I could smell hospital on him, and I realized that’s probably why my head hurt. I hated hospitals.

“How’s Quen?” I said.

Trent eased back into the chair, his hand sliding from the table to fall into his lap. “He’s not conscious yet, but his brain activity is good.”

His relief made me smile again. “Good.” I stood up, but I didn’t know why other than I felt uncomfortable sitting across from Trent. “If there is anything I can do . . .”

He looked up as he reached for his hat on the table. “They tell me there’s nothing anyone can do but wait. He’s strong, and his chances are good.”

I wanted to touch his shoulder in support, but I hesitated at the last moment, going to throw the petits fours away instead. “You believe he’s going to make it,” I said. Trent, too, had learned to believe in the eleven percent.

“Yes, I do.” His voice was soft but determined.

“Give me a day or two before you start being noble, okay?”

He chuckled, and I hesitated, my thoughts spinning. I needed more stuff. He who has the most stuff in his toolbox wins. “Hey, you have a library, right?” I said as I turned back around. I’d moved too fast, and Jenks darted forward to catch one of the cakes as it slid off the plate. “Do you have any books about line energy?” I asked as I set the dish on the center counter, ignoring Jenks swearing at me as he brushed the frosting off his clothes.

Trent pushed forward, his hand reaching to touch a pocket. “I don’t have anything in my library about the lines, no, but I know someone who does,” he said, his hand reluctantly falling from his jacket. “Rachel, would you like to come to tea tomorrow?”

Jenks looked up from his soiled silk jacket, surprise in his angular face. Trent had stood, and I started at how fast it had been. He had a direction, and it changed everything. It was back, the power and certainty was back, and something in me shivered.

“Tea?” Jenks was standing next to the plate of petits fours. “You want to have tea? Are you nerking futs?”

The light caught the tips of his hair as Trent came up to the center counter, the fair strands beginning to float in his excitement. “I know of something you might want to read.”