He stares at me, quietly contemplative for what feels like a full minute before saying, “If we successfully rescue Hypatia, you can bring me to your grandfather. I will examine him and look at his medical information. I can’t promise anything can be done, but—and only if we rescue Hypatia, mind you—I will do what I can to help.”

I almost start crying in relief.

We iron out a few more details, but the awkwardness is getting overwhelming, and I’m anxious to be alone to think about what I’ve just committed to.

As I leave, Rafe says, “Get some rest, because after classes tomorrow, you’re going to need energy for our training.” Then he adds with a wicked grin, “And don’t look so miserable as you’re leaving my room…. I have a reputation to maintain.”

I roll my eyes and let the door slam in his face.

25

At the end of my Sculpture Studio, Rafe is waiting by the door to escort me to lunch. I walk stiffly by his side.

This is new. This is weird.

It draws eyes when we arrive at the cafeteria together. Including Michael’s. I smile at him, and Rafe must see something in my expression, because he asks, “What is it with you two?”

“Nothing,” I respond too quickly.

Understanding dawns on his face, and he grins spitefully. “Naughty.” He leans closer to me and says into my ear, “He likes you too. I can tell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with as much flippancy as I can muster, but my heart leaps at his words. Or is it from the feeling of his breath tickling my neck? He’s standing very close, and I know how it must look to those around us. An apt display for our charade.

Michael is watching Rafe and me with a stormy look in his eyes. Is he upset? Rafe sees the look too, and he’s entertained. He puts his hand on the small of my back and leans in closer, causing a flurry of thrills in my belly.

Rafe whispers, “I’d go for him too if he weren’t so infernally self-righteous and dull.” The way he winks makes it look to everyone else as if he’s said something a lot more… intimate.

Michael’s jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists.

I feel a power that I haven’t felt before. It’s intoxicating enough that I hardly notice the increasing heat of Rafe’s hand through my shirt or the way the warmth spreads as he moves that hand to grasp me around the waist and steer me toward his table.

Michael follows us. “Journey Castle,” he says stiffly. “I need to speak with you.”