I meet his eyes briefly before tearing mine away. “No, thanks.”

He leans forward a little. “I don’t want to push you. I just thought, if you knew, maybe you wouldn’t be so—”

I don’t want to learn about this. I don’t want to be this. Opening up to Raze, even a little, was a mistake. He’ll never understand. I cut him off, voice sharper this time and barbed with sarcasm. “I really don’t need you to tell me what to do, Raze. Thanks anyway.”

After a disbelieving pause, he coughs out a humorless laugh. “Sure you don’t. I’m sure you already know more about magic than we mere mortals ever could.”

He’s right.

The fire flares up again, but not because of the cold. That makes me even angrier. I get to my feet, fists clenched. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, the reason I don’t like you isn’t because I’m a changeling but because you’re unbearable?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about unbearable.” His voice doesn’t change much, but I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. There’s something so infuriating about the way he remains seated, body relaxed even as we argue. Meanwhile, I feel like an instrument that’s been strung too tight, screechy and about to snap.

“Is there a reason you think you’re so much better than me?” I demand, not wanting to hear the answer. I already know.

Raze rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you, Iselia.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snap. “And I never will. Stop trying to be nice to me, Raze. It doesn’t suit you.”

“At least I’m trying!”

Raze and I exchange a glare hotter than the campfire between us, which is burning as furiously as it can despite almost being out of fuel. A wave of something angry and malicious comes over me, sweeping in a suspicion I’ve quietly been stewing over since yesterday, since Olani’s teasing and the worried looks they exchanged over the limits of Raze’s magic.

“You know what? I’d actually love for you to teach me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll do whatever you tell me, too. Just do one thing for me first. Shapeshift.”

He frowns, sparks reflecting in his eyes. “What—?”

“Into anything except a bird.”

Raze freezes. Suddenly, he seems like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Go ahead,” I say, already feeling guilty about the stinging words, but it’s too late to stuff them back in. “A fox. A horse. Anything. Except. A. Bird.”

Raze shakes his head and turns away from me, one hand reaching up to tug at his hair. His voice wavers with a laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “You’re really something, Iselia.”

Without another word, his shape blurs into streaks of color. He shapeshifts into a hawk and takes flight. I watch the bird until it’s swallowed up by the star-studded darkness.

“What’s going on here?” says Isolde’s voice behind me. In my anger, my vision and attention had narrowed to a spotlight on the object of my frustration, and I didn’t even see her and Olani approach.