Page 124 of The Art of Exiley

“You drugged her and used her body without consent.” I know what it’s like to find out I’ve had my blood stolen. To be lied to and used as a pawn.

“She is completely unharmed and will never know or care.”

I shake my head. “And that’s just it—you’re not even sorry.”

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply but doesn’t respond.

I go to the bathroom to wash up and change into pajamas. When I come out, I look to where Hypatia’s sleeping soundly in the center of one bed. Rafe is stretched out in an undershirt and silk pajama pants on one side of the second bed, watching me, his eyes holding a challenge. I silently walk to the other side of the bed, tuck myself in, and stare at the ceiling.

“I’m not the villain here,” Rafe says softly from next to me.

“Well, you’re definitely not the good guy.”

“Neither are you.” The mattress moves beneath me as he shifts his body to face mine. I turn my face toward him and find him much closer than I realized. He adds in a velvet whisper, “And maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

The spicy scent of his nearness invades my senses. I swallow tightly. “There’s no ‘we.’ You and I don’t work together anymore.”

He blinks. And it’s like a curtain comes down. All vulnerability replaced with the familiar chill, all traces of emotion gone. “If that’s the way you want it,” he says with a sneer. His voice is hard and mean.

I turn my back on him and try to sleep.

I don’t sleep well. But staying up all night with a racing mind has its benefits. I’ve sorted things out, and I know what my next step has to be.

Rafe is back to his normal self, no trace of the vulnerable boy from last night. Hypatia takes the whole I-was-a-spy-all-along thing in stride, and she seems to be feeling much better.

She’s entranced by the television, and she regales me with awed descriptions of various cartoons and the wonders of the Weather Channel. I try not to let my eyes linger on the scar that circles her delicate neck. Or the small fangs that she’s now not bothering to hide from me when she smiles wide.

“Have you seen this one before, Ada?” she asks me excitedly about some high school drama. “It appears to be some kind of dystopia where everyone is cosmetically modified, and they need to fight to the death to be crowned queen of the kingdom of Homecoming.”

Lovely to know that the unrealistic beauty standards of our society look like dystopian modifications to an outsider. It is kind of weird to see the airbrushed version of reality presented on TV after being away from all that messaging for so long. I don’t think I’ve bemoaned having pores in months. Yesterday I ate a second slice of pizza with zero guilt.

It’s hard to tear Hypatia away when it’s time to go. “We are wrong about provincials,” she says as she solemnly hands me the remote. “Television is an amazing invention.”

As the three of us make our way down the elevator, I ask Rafe, “Are you worried?”

“No. It’s my brother, not my father.”

Prince Alex is in the lobby, attracting a lot of attention with his long hair and large physique. He looks handsome and intimidating but very unprincely in a lot of leather and denim. My heart skips a beat when I realize that Michael is with him. He looks worried and exhausted and adorably mussed.

Sweet, non-blood-drinking, non-life-threatening Michael. Well, perhaps life-threatening; when he looks up and our eyes lock, the pace of my heart certainly feels heart attack–inducing. As he takes me in, I watch the anxiety drain out of him. I want to run to him. Hug him. Tell him everything that’s happened. But neither of us moves.

Alex rushes over and clutches Hypatia to him. “Thank the Conductor,” he breathes. Then he quickly turns on Rafe. “What were you thinking? I told you I had it in hand! Do you not trust Chorus? There is a very delicate balance—”

“I’m sure Chorus told you we’d all come back safe and alive. And see, we have, thanks to me. And Ada.”

Alex’s furious eyes turn on me.

“Oh, don’t blame her for anything,” Rafe drawls. “You know it was all my idea. I needed help from someone who didn’t know better.” Then his smile turns devilish as he continues. “And I wasn’t about to spend a night in a fancy hotel all alone.”

I’m dying to roll my eyes.

Alex skeptically eyes Rafe’s jacket, which I’m wearing again.

Whatever. I was cold

“Are you okay?” Michael asks me, approaching cautiously. “I didn’t know where you were—if you went voluntarily or were taken or—”

I lay my hand on his arm. “I’m fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” I hate that I’m about to lie to him again, but there’s no way I can tell the truth. “I was just so worried about Hypatia, and when Rafe suggested it, I got excitedto see New York again. I didn’t realize it would be a big deal.” Look, if Rafe’s willing to take the fall for me, I’ll let him. He definitely deserves it.

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