Slowly, I reached out. My fingers brushed his cheek, then cupped it, and I let my thumb smooth along his warm skin. His eyes closed, and he leaned into my touch. My skin tingled where it met his, the feeling dancing up my arm like the hum of the egg’s magic. He was tall enough that even sitting, he wasn’t far, but the space between us was still too much. I wanted it gone.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

It was like being in a Rhodairen storm, thunder and rain all around, equal parts soothing and shocking. Heat flushed my face, my neck, my chest. He brought a hand to my head, entangling it in my still-damp hair. Then he stood, and I was looking up at him, our lips a breath apart. He leaned in, kissing me this time, and I slid my hands back onto the table to catch myself.

“Saints!” I jerked back and ripped my hand from the table to find my palm bleeding from a shallow cut. I looked around for the offending object, ready to condemn it to a vicious death, and found a piece of bloody glass.

“Are you all right?” It wasn’t until Caylus spoke that I realized he’d stepped closer. The concern on his face made me catch my breath. His first reaction had been to protect me.

All too aware of his closeness, I inspected my throbbing cut. “I need water.” He looked reluctant to put space between us, and I was reluctant to let him, but he nodded and crossed to another workbench.

I shook out my hand to ease the stinging, droplets of blood flying onto the workbench and—

“Saints!” I shouted again, leaping to my feet. Caylus whirled around, but my eyes were locked on my hand.

Lady Kerova had said only my family could hatch the crows, and there was only one thing we shared.

Our blood.

Twenty

Caylus and I stood side by side. He’d brought me a cup of water and a cloth to wash and wrap my hand, and for the last few minutes, we’d both stared silently at the egg where we’d bundled it in blankets on the floor.

“Try it,” Caylus said at last.

I’d thought the same thing a hundred times in the last couple of minutes but hadn’t said it. What if it didn’t work?

What if it did?

My entire body seized at the idea, at the possibility of what was about to happen. It seemed so simple. Could my blood really be the key? Did that mean my family had some sort of magic line?

Slowly, I unwrapped my hand. Taking a deep breath, I pressed my wound against the egg.

It glowed.