His loose golden hair just barely brushes his broad shoulders. He rarely wears it down. I don’t really like long hair on men, but he’s pulling it off. He’s pulling it off so well, in fact, that my mouth grows dry as he nears our seats. He has a regal air about him in a burgundy cravat and jacket that looks straight out of the Victorian military, a rich navy velvet with double-breasted rows of gold buttons. The whole outfit is pulled together with a pair of tightly fitted jeans.

Rafe’s date is a Valkyrie, her backless dress exposing an elegant pair of wings, which glimmer under the train’s lighting. I don’t notice much else about the dress, as I’m too distracted by how much it doesn’t cover—endless tan legs, and curves, and shimmery skin that she’s maneuvering to press up against Rafe every which way. She looks vaguely familiar from Rafe’s posse at the institute, but she’s not one of the girls he’s been flirting with recently (not that I’m keeping track). Guess she got a promotion.

As they approach us in a cloud of perfumed air, Rafe looks over and catches me staring at him. I expect no acknowledgment, but he elegantly arches a solitary brow and peruses his eyes languidly up my body. Heat rushes to my face, and as our gazes lock, his icy irises flash with a familiar predatory gleam. Then his expression turns bored again, and his eyes slide back to the adoring crowd ahead. Georgie watches the interaction, ignoring the sneers coming her way from Rafe’s lackeys, her brows raised with a question that remains unvoiced even once the whole too-pretty group has sauntered into the next car.

I could write a sonnet on all the ways I loathe how hot Raphael Vanguard is. Whatever. Even if we didn’t despise each other, I’ve learned my lesson about guys who have that kind of magnetism. Having one shining star with his own gravitational force in my life is more than enough.

At the thought of Kor, I clutch my phone in my pocket. I’ve come prepared for entering the realm of sweet, sweet cell service. When we traveled to Hilde, I’d timed the distance from Arcadia to the New York City station. I’ve been keeping track, and we should be close. “Be right back,” I say to Georgie. All I need is the barest of a connection to send off all my materials.