fingers gentle. As if he had all the time in the world to half-kneel on my bed and study my face. His

T-shirt had a hole in one shoulder, and it made my chest feel kind of weird to see that. “You okay?”

I grabbed myself with both hands, as Gran would say, and nodded. “I think . . . yeah. Sorry. That

was . . . pretty intense.”

“Okay. I’ll deal with Benjamin. You’re safe, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen.” His mouth pulled

tight against itself. And now I was having some sort of heart attack. Because when he looked at me

like that, my chest started to feel like it was turned inside out. “Promise.”

And that—the promise, the way he said it with utter certainty—was enough to make me tear up

again. He let go of me and stalked for the door, skinny kid in boxers and a holey T-shirt. His legs

had bulked up, too. He wasn’t so bird-thin as he was back in the Dakotas. And he was starting to

move like the werwulfen, graceful and assured.

I clutched the blankets to my chest and shut my eyes again. Heard him taking the bar off its brackets. “Calm down!” he yelled. “She’s okay! Bad dream! It was just a bad dream.”

Except they’re never just bad dreams. But I had other things to occupy my mind. I was grateful, and

my eyes snapped open. I fought my way out of the tangled covers and bolted for the bathroom. I

didn’t want anyone to see me like this, and I wanted to start getting ready to face the day. Night.

Whatever.

But most of all, I didn’t want to think about what I’d just dreamed. I would do my best to forget it, I

decided. It was already fading, retreating quietly into the space where dreams live while you’re

walking in daylight.

I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Jealousy

CHAPTER TWELVE

Two weeks later, dusk fell in purple bands across the city and the Schola Prima woke up. Here there

was no bell for wake-up or between class periods. There wasn’t even a Restriction bell. I was nervous about what would happen if the suckers attacked, but Benjamin said it didn’t happen often.

Not like the reform Schola. And that was just the beginning of the differences. All in all, I liked this

place better.

Sort of.

Graves shrugged back into his long black coat, ran his fingers through his hair again. It stood up in

wild, vital springing curls, and he grimaced as he ripped through a tangle. He shoved his rolled-up

sleeping bag up next to the bed. “Come on, you’re going to be late.”

“Shit.” I hurriedly wrote down the last two answers, slammed the book shut, and scooped it into my