“I need to talk to you,” he said.

A livid bruise darkened the left side of his jaw. He looked drawn and tired, as if he might have been sleeping rough for a few nights. His eyes were ringed by dark circles.

“Have you … Did you get into a fight?” I quickly walked over to him. “Eater, Finn. Who hit you?”

“No one.” He touched his jaw. I noticed that his knuckles were split. “Well, no one I couldn’t handle.”

This was unlike him; Finn seldom even got into arguments, let alone fistfights. The bruising stretched all the way down his neck. The only time I ever saw him angry, it was on someone else’s behalf.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. Whatever it is—”

“El, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m fine,” he said shortly, his face closed-off. “I just need to talk to you in private. I wouldn’t bother you if this wasn’t important.”

He spoke to me like I was a stranger. I had no right to feel hurt; I was the one who told him to leave me alone. But it stung all the same.

I breathed out through my mouth.

“All right,” I replied. “We can talk, but not right now—I’m presenting at the symposium and the cabs might leave without me. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“The usual place, third bell?”

“Fine.” Behind me, the horses were departing through the Gate. “I should go.”

Finn nodded, still cold, still detached, but then something in him seemed to give way, and he sighed.

“Good luck tonight,” he said. “Not that you need it.”

“Thanks.” I turned to go, but in spite of myself, I couldn’t help adding, “You are okay, aren’t you?”

The ghost of his old smile passed across his face. He nodded again.

“Whatever is going on, just … be careful.” A cool wind blew down the street, and I drew my robes tighter around me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“El?”

“Yes?”

He averted his gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

I quickly walked away. Finn stayed where he stood, alone, his shoulders hunched against the breeze. The bruise on his jaw looked painful, and I hated to see him so hollow-eyed, like the life had drained out of him. It reminded me of the bad times, the years before his grandfather died.

I presented myself to the harassed Acolyte ticking names off a list on her clipboard. She glared at me.

“You’re late, Acolyte.”

“Sorry,” I murmured.

She checked my details off on her register. “Well, you aren’t the only one, I suppose. Use whichever cab you want; they’re identical.”

I nodded and walked over to one of the last remaining vehicles. I still didn’t understand why we couldn’t hold the symposium in Ceyrun; most of the participants would be members of the Order. True, a large portion of the civilian farming community lived near Tivaria, but anyone with the ability to make policy decisions resided in the city. It seemed a waste of resources to travel so far, as if the symposium was all for show—a performance for the public’s benefit.