Which meant that any minute of any hour, and any hour of any day, the East Cardinal’s ordeal could start, and Jake would have to demonstrate his dominance of the Harming power.

23

Hope

Thecurtainsofthenavia were nowhere near as warm as the shadow outfit Ciaran had tailored for Hope, but at least they didn’t come with waves of all sorts of feelings that she wasn’t sure she was ready to experience again.

She’d have to tread carefully with him. He was dangerous.Trulydangerous. Not in the sense of physical danger. He had never hurt her, and Hope had no reason to believe he ever would. Even if he did, she wasn’t afraid of that.

What was truly frightening,absolutelyterrifying, were the thoughts.

Herthoughts.

How she found herself looking at him when she didn’t mean to. How she seemed to know when he was entering a room before he even set a foot in it. How his scent made her close her eyes against her will. How she saw him swallowing and looking at her mouth when she spoke. How time didn’t seem to pass when they looked at each other. How she wished to know him more.

She didn’twantto wish to know him more, but she did. There was no point in lying to herself or pretending this wasn’t the case. She wanted to know him, to talk to him, to look at him.

She wasn’t as scared of the Core ordeal as she was fromthis.

She was used to being in control of her body, her emotions, her thoughts. When it came to Ciaran, all that vanished. The unavoidable physical reaction her body had when he was near, the undeniabledesireto spend time with him, the impending need for time to stop . . . It didn’t matter how many times she repeated herself this—he—could end her. The more she saw, the more she heard, the harder it became.

It wasn’t that realization that made her open her eyes. It was the bleeding ink on her arm.

The first bleeding ink from her father in weeks. Hope doubted he had forgotten about her. Maybe the Organ Mandor hadn’t bothered to send her any inks for a while or, more likely, she had been so distracted that she hadn’t been able to block his ink, exactly how the dual-powered man that invaded her dreams and her mind had taught her.

The dripping blood on the floor seemed to mock her.

Drip, danger, drip. Drip, danger, drip.

The price of allowing herself to be distracted by a man was wet and red.

Her white-haired friend greeted her with a cheerful hug that squeezed Hope’s ribs and made her smile.

“Morning to you, too, Nina. Morning, Indianna, Ayla.” Hope sat at the head of the table, between the women who had almost finished breakfast. “Is Raoul okay?”

Nina sighed. “Sort of. He’s been having more nightmares.”

“More black strands in his hair?” Hope asked, lifting her eyebrows.

“A few more,” Indianna replied. “We tried washing the color away, but it doesn’t fade.”

“Like permanent ink,” Hope muttered.

Nina pressed her lips in a straight line. “I’m worried,” she said quietly, like a secret declaration she didn’t want her brother to know.

“So am I,” Indianna agreed, scratching her forehead distractedly.

They had good reason to, but Hope knew saying this aloud was neither helpful nor useful. They ate in silence for a while, the pieces of thick bread with tomato spread melting in Hope’s mouth.

Indianna spoke first. “Do we know if we’re heading towards the next ordeal?”

“Nyraxa said we’re heading West, yes,” Ayla said. Toward Ciaran’s ordeal. “She also asked if we know where we are meant to go after that, but you don’t know yet, do you, Hope?” Her eyebrows lifted, her emerald-green eyes focusing on Hope.

“I haven’t got a clue about where my ordeal will be.”

Indianna shrugged. “Sometimes not knowing is better than knowing too much.” She turned to Nina, crossing her arms. “I might ask Nyraxa if she wants me to look at her patched eye.”

Nina chuckled. “I already offered our help. She said shehadn’t needed the bloody eye in decades,andit would be a nuisance to get used to having two again. Oh, and that she liked her patch more than an actual eye.”