It’s finally time to head off to the tower. The footpath gate of the private drive swings open before I buzz the ringer, which feels ominous. My walk seems a lot longer tonight than it was yesterday, either because I’m alone, or because there’s so much at stake. I have to convince the council, at any cost.

What will they demand of me?

Does it matter?

I get the sense of eyes following me. When I glance around, there’s no one except a few security guards patrolling. They don’t pay me any mind.

When I reach the gate, a few yards away from the Wyvern House, my feet pause of their own volition, my heart thundering in my chest. What’s going to happen to me here?

The door swings open, and I’m shocked to see someone I recognize in the entrance.

There’s no mistaking it; the beautiful dark curls, the smooth russet skin, and that big, soft mouth. I’d recognize her any day. The girl will likely haunt my nightmares for the next decade. Last time I saw her, she was almost a corpse.

I didn’t see those striking pale jade eyes last night, even when she finally coughed up the pool water in her lungs.

“Hey, Claire. I’m Charlotte. I heard I owe you my life.”

She smiles like it’s amusing. When people say “I owe you my life” they probably mean “thank you thank you thank you, how could I possibly repay you?” But we both know she jumped.

I’m so startled by how casual she looks. Shouldn’t she be at the hospital? Surrounded by doctors and shrinks? What is she doing here? Is she part of the council?

“How are you doing?” is all I manage to ask.

At least it’s not as rude as what the fuck are you doing here?

“Not any worse than yesterday. Except I have babysitters twenty-four seven to ensure I don’t nope out of existence like I want to.” She just rolls her eyes. “Come on in.”

I do.

Thinking on it, it’s good she was the one to greet me. I’m not at ease, exactly, but I’m considerably less freaked out about my situation, in light of all my curiosity about her. She’s suicidal. Yesterday made that plain, and the way she speaks now reinforces it. And yet she seems…fun? Funny, cracking jokes at her own expense. Alive.

“I’m glad you’re all right, Charlotte. Truly.” I want to tell her the world’s a better place with her in it, but it sounds like a platitude from a stranger. “And having you here stresses me out a hell of a lot less.”