Page 125 of The Black Witch

“Maybe the Northern packs are different,” Aislinn says hopefully. “Maybe Jarod and Diana’s pack is more moral.”

“Perhaps.”

“I just can’t imagine Jarod doing something so shocking.”

I look back up at the moon, small gray clouds drifting lazily around it.

“You know,” Aislinn furtively admits, “Jarod gave me a poem today. About the moon.”

I’m not surprised by this. What began as a small trickle of stealth correspondence in Chemistrie lab has quickly become a steady stream, so much so that Diana flat-out refused to be a courier. Instead, she and I rearranged ourselves so that Jarod and Aislinn could have the aisle seats.

Aislinn opens one of her stealth books, fishes a neatly folded piece of paper out of it and hands it to me. I open it and read Jarod’s flowing script by the thin lamplight.

It’s a poem about loneliness and yearning, the moon a bright witness to it.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her as I refold it, feeling as if I’m intruding on something private.

“I know,” she acknowledges, her voice dreamy, far away.

“Aislinn,” I venture with some hesitation, “I saw you and Jarod together. In the archives last night.”

They were sitting, a book open before them as they huddled together, their heads and hands almost touching. They seemed oblivious to the rest of the world, enthralled with each other, both of their faces lit up as they talked in animated, hushed tones. Unable to hold back their shy smiles.

Aislinn blushes and looks down at her lap. She shrugs. “I guess we’re becoming...friends of sorts. Strange, isn’t it? Me. Friends with a Lupine.” She looks up at me. “It’s all perfectly innocent, you know. Jarod’s family is bringing him to visit the Northern packs this summer so he can look for a mate, and he knows I’m about to be fasted to Randall. We’re just...friends.”

“I know,” I said. “I just worry.”

Aislinn’s brow knits tight. “If my family knew I was on speaking terms with him...my father would pull me out of University. That’s why we only meet late in the evenings. It’s just that we both love books so much. It’s so nice to have someone to discuss literature with who’s so...insightful. He’s incredibly well-read.”

“Seems he’s as well-read as you,” I concur.

“You know, Elloren,” Aislinn says, her voice tentative, “talking to Jarod...it just makes me wonder if...if our people might be mistaken about some things.”

I settle back, catching sight of a familiar constellation through the branches. “I know what you mean.”

We’re quiet for a moment, looking up at the stars.

Chilled, I slide my hands into my cloak pockets. My hand scrapes against hard, jagged pieces.

Lukas’s broken portrait. I’d completely forgotten about it.

I fish it out of my pocket and hold it in my opened palm. I push the two pieces together to form his ridiculously handsome visage.

Aislinn gapes. “You have a portrait? OfLukas Grey?”

I nod, resigned. “I broke it by accident and lifted it from Fallon’s room.” I fill Aislinn in on everything that happened, including Diana’s outrageous nudity and how effectively she dealt with Fallon Bane.

Aislinn struggles to keep down the incredulous laughter that’s bubbling up, and I start to laugh, too.

Aislinn shakes her head as she fights back her grin, gesturing toward the portrait. “Fallon will freeze you if she finds out.”

I slide the pieces back into my pocket and pat the side of my cloak. “Not if it’s safely hidden away, she won’t.”

My fingers worry the portrait pieces through my cloak as trepidation pricks at me.

She’ll never find out. How could she?

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