My eyes came up to find him deadly serious. “They will just give it to you? They might not get it back.”

He nodded. “But if it does, it will be working. They’ll risk it.”

The microwave dinged, and needing a moment, I went to get it, eyeing the restricted library books in passing. Trent might be able to do that, yes. “You probably know better than I what these things can potentially do,” I said as the scent of warm milk and chocolate hit me. My stomach rumbled when I reached for the two perfectly steaming mugs.

“Ah, I know what their owners say they’re supposed to do,” he said, and I hurriedly moved the hot mugs to the counter, shaking the heat from my burned and sensitive fingers. Seeing it, Trent seemed to go still. “You’re burned?”

I hid my hand behind my back. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing, fairy farts!” Jenks said, and I scowled at him. “She burned it trying to get through Ku’Sox’s circle.”

“It’s fine,” I said, but Trent was reaching for me. I stiffened, but he already had my wrist in his grip. “It’s fine,” I protested again, yanking away.

“Jeez, Rache. He’s not going to bite you,” Jenks griped, and Trent sourly held out his hand, head cocked and challenge screaming from his confident posture.

I wasn’t going to show him, but as Jenks had said, he wasn’t going to bite me. Feeling funny, I extended my hand. My demon scar was obvious, and I flushed when his eyes lingered briefly upon it before bringing my hand closer to him. I cringed a bit as his breath met my raw skin and he frowned. “It will be fine tomorrow,” I said, and I exhaled in relief when he let go. “Here, drink your chocolate.”

I pushed his mug to him, and he took it. His missing fingers showed; then he hid them again. Silent, we both took a drink, thinking our separate thoughts. I held the hot chocolate to my face, breathing it in before I tasted it, debating telling him that Quen had asked me to accompany him to the show. It seemed almost petty now.

“What the artifacts actually do is in the books. Somewhere,” Trent said, and I met his eyes over my mug. Hot chocolate, sweet, rich, bitter, and warm, slipped down, warming me almost as much as Trent’s sly smile. He was sticking me with the research, but I didn’t care. For the first time since losing Bis, I thought we might be able to do this.

Nodding, Trent abruptly put his mug down and reached for his coat. “Just so. I’ll leave the choosing to you then,” he said as he gracefully put his coat on. “I need to get back. Thank you for the hot chocolate.”