Page 72 of Fallen Star

He trails off, waiting for me to continue.

“Looking at the crystals,” I explain.

“Those are rocks.”

“Theycouldbe crystals.” I shrug. “If they were smoothed over.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine curiosity. “Interesting,” he says, although given that he’s looking at me instead of the rock in my hand, I don’t think he’s referring to the rock.

“Crystals have different energies,” I explain. “Like, if this is quartz, it could help with clarity. Or if it’s amethyst, it might help with peace of mind.” I turn it over, examining it. “I’m trying to gather whatever positive energy I can find in this place.”

“And you think these rocks are going to change anything?” he asks, crouching down next to me.

“It can’t hurt,” I say, gathering two more stones. “Besides, we need all the help we can get in this place.”

“We?” There’s a hopeful note in his voice that makes my chest tighten.

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at Victoria. She’s so bitter, but I get it. I’d be scared too, if I was in her position.” I examine another stone, avoiding his gaze, hoping he’ll be receptive of what I’m going to say next. “If we work together instead of against each other, maybe we’ll have a better chance.”

“Better chance of what?”

“Getting through this.” I glance up at him to clarify. “Getting out of here.”

His expression falls, and he touches my hand, stopping me from picking up another stone. “There’s no ‘getting out of here,’” he says sadly. “But we can find ways to be happy. To make the best of what we have.”

The way he says it—with the gentle emphasis onwe—makes my heart skip. Because he’s offering something. A connection. Maybe even more.

And I’m tempted. Especially because he looks so much like Patrick that it hurts.

At the same time, there’s no way in Hell I’m going down without a fight.

“Did you know that penguins search for pebbles for each other?” he continues before I can reply.

I blink at the sudden change in topic. “Penguins?”

“Yes. Penguins,” he repeats, picking up one of the smoother stones. “When they’re courting, the male penguin searches the beach for the perfect pebble to give to the female he’s interested in. If she accepts the pebble, she’s accepting him as her mate.”

Despite myself, I’m intrigued. I’ve always enjoyed learning random facts.

“How do they know which pebble is perfect?” I ask.

“They look for the smoothest, roundest ones they can find.” His fingers trace the edge of the stone he’s holding. “Sometimesthey’ll spend hours searching. And if another male finds a better pebble, they might even try to steal it.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Penguin pebble theft?”

“It’s serious business.” He picks up a smooth, pale stone and holds it out to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Here. For clarity. Or whatever else you need.”

It’s a sweet gesture. So, I take it, letting my fingers brush against his as I do.

“It’s beautiful,” I say softly.

“Yeah,” he says, although he’s not looking at the stone anymore. “It is.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the Night Court’s suffocating rules fading just enough to feel normal.

At least, as normal as we can get here.

“Zoey,” he says, soft and hesitant.

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