“It’s not easier,” he said, and I heard the slight catch in his voice. “But it’s still the best thing we can do.”

He turned to look at me then, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sun on his glasses or that glow that still wasn’t going anywhere. “I meant everything I said last night. Every word. But—”

“We need to stay Paladin/Oracle and lose the whole boyfie/girlfie thing,” I said, and David’s lips twitched.

“Still the worst word.”

I smiled at him even though nothing in me felt all that smiley. He was right, I knew that. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

And then he turned to me, taking my hands in his and searching my face. “Even if the Peirasmos is over, that doesn’t suddenly make things right, you know? There could still be people wanting to take me, you’d still have to deal with Bee and her Paladin powers, I could turn into... Pres, look into my eyes.”

I knew he didn’t mean that in a romantic way, and sure enough when I looked closer, I could see the dots of light there in his pupils.

“That’s not going away,” he told me. “And I have a feeling that every time I have a vision, they’re going to get bigger and brighter. You keep saying you don’t want me to go with Alexander because he’ll turn me into a ‘thing,’ but... Harper, I think that’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s not,” I said, shaking my head. “I know that if we—we work at it, and try to—”

“Harper.” He squeezed my fingers tighter. “It’s going to happen.”

Stupid as it was, I heard myself blurt out, “You can’t know that.”

But of course he could. Of course he did.

I stepped back, letting my hands fall from his. “That’s what you saw, isn’t it? Last night at the golf course.”

“Part of what I saw, yeah,” David said, turning away and heading down the porch steps.

I stood where I was, and despite the warmth of the late spring afternoon, I suddenly felt very cold. “What was the rest?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

THE NIGHT of the pageant was hot and muggy. Mom and Dad still didn’t quite get why I even wanted to do it, but they came anyway. “I missed Cotillion,” Mom had said as she’d carried my baton out to the car, my costume in a garment bag draped over one arm. “I won’t miss this.”