“Sorry,” I repeat back to him, muffled through sobs. “Sorry. Sorry.” I sniffle and nod. My nose is running, and it’s embarrassing. I don’t want Raze to see me wipe snot on my sleeve.

“Seelie.” His hand hovers over my elbow, but then he pulls back again. He’s used my real name twice in a minute now. That must mean something else is wrong. “Stop apologizing. It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry.” His voice is calm, but not too syrupy, and I just want him to keep talking. He leans back, tilting his head up. I think he’s avoiding staring at me on purpose, and I appreciate it.

I force my eyes to trace up his face, to meet his. They’re swollen and tired, with dark shadows smudged underneath. His nose is redder than usual, as if he’s been crying, too, but silently so I wouldn’t know. Why would the rules of our friendship be any different the other way around? “Raze,” I murmur.

He looks at me expectantly.

I don’t have anything else to say. But he’s trying to comfort me, and I owe him the same. Uncertainly, I reach out and let one hand rest on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

Well, I did everything I could. I can’t force him to talk to me if he doesn’t want to. “We should get some sleep,” I try, instead.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We should.”

He seems disappointed, or maybe conflicted, and I can’t figure out why. I gave him every possible chance to confide in me. With the shoulder touch and everything. I thought I’d made it clear that I would support him.

I try to push away, but then he sucks in a breath. “Seelie, wait.” The soft sound makes me go perfectly still, and I stay right there, my arm brushing his. I think he’s going to get mad, to turn and leave me alone on the ground. Instead, he says, “I’m not. Okay, I mean.”

I’ve stopped crying, I realize. I can still feel sticky tear tracks on my face, though.

I uncurl a little. Then, slowly, I rest my head on Raze’s shoulder.

He doesn’t move away.

We sit like that until all that’s left on my face is the itchy sting of salt. My thoughts turn in halting circles.

Finally, I break the silence. “You care about Olani a lot.”

Raze’s whole face seems to tremble, like he’s trying not to start crying again. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m worried about her. She’s...she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

That makes sense. Olani isn’t exactly one for emotional speeches, but I’ve seen the way they interact. How they protect each other, understand each other, cheer each other up. They’re so different that you’d never expect it, but they balance each other out somehow.

“Back before...” His voice breaks, and he stops, clears his throat, and tries again. “When I lived with Leira, I... We weren’t allowed out of the manor much. When Olani started working for her two years ago, Leira gave us a job to do together. Nothing important, something even I couldn’t screw up. It was a test.”