“But no excitement,” he says around a mouthful of bread. “Safety is boring.” He licks the crumbs from his fingers, oblivious to the way she’s glowering at him.

I lay a hand on Tessa’s forearm. Even though I don’t share her apprehension—I have much more pressing matters to occupy my worry—I understand it. Her role as a Healer is to alleviate pain, to end suffering. When she sees discomfort, she longs to magic it away. But this is a problem that can’t be fixed with anything but patience, and it puts her on edge.

“Everything will be fine,” I tell her. “I promise.”

“Saskia’s right,” Jacey says. “All we can do is wait.”

Tessa takes a deep breath. “I know. I’m trying.”

Niklas and Bram, who have been quietly talking to each other, suddenly fall silent. Bram nudges Tessa’s shoulder with his own. “Look, maybe you don’t have to wait much longer.”

Master Kyra walks toward us with a large wooden box. She plunks it down unceremoniously in front of Tessa, as if she knows exactly who needs to see it most. “Good luck,” she says.

I practically feel Tessa exhale.

Jacey reaches for the latch, but Tessa places her palm flat against the wood to prevent her from lifting the lid. “Let’s take it upstairs where we have more privacy.”

We all glance around the room. Two other groups sit clustered together, both a sizable distance from each other, and so far from us that we can’t hear a word they’re saying. Can’t even make out their facial features.

“I really don’t think—” Jacey starts, but the pleading expression on Tessa’s face seems to change her mind. “All right. I suppose an extra layer of privacy couldn’t hurt. Let’s open the box somewhere else.”

The room I share with Tessa isn’t small, but with six people crammed in a circle on the floor between the two beds, it feels tiny. Bram ended up next to me, his legs folded in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. His shoulder presses against mine, and it makes it hard to think. Hard to breathe. I try to shake off the feeling, annoyed that my body still can’t seem to tell the difference between my two paths.

“Is everyone ready?” Tessa asks. The wooden box sits in the center of the circle.

Jacey gives a playful, dramatic sigh. “Just open it already. The anticipation is killing me.”

Tessa lifts the lid. Inside the wooden box is a thick cube of silky-smooth bone. It’s about the size of two loaves of bread resting side by side. At first glance, I might call it a box, except for the fact that it has no hinges, no visible seams of any kind. Tessa turns it over, examines it from every angle.

“Um … thoughts?”

“That looks Mason-made,” Talon says. “Give it to Niklas.”