Page 126 of The Art of Exiley

I’ve been back for two weeks. Most of which I’ve spent being interrogated by the Inner Chamber. Kor and my mother managed to explain away my actions at the hospital—which wasn’t too difficult, since many from theInner Chamber don’t even know what’s really going on there—and now my full-time job is gaining their trust while also trying to withhold any information that could be used to harm the Makers. Today involved a lot of questions specifically about the Avant Guard and the mists surrounding the island.

Despite my mission supposedly having been one of the most important in the history of the Families, the Oculus and the Grand Master have remained completely out of everything. I need to find out more about who they are and what they’re up to, but I am the last person likely to get ahold of that information at the moment.

“You seem so different,” Kor says, propping the guitar against the window.

Do I? Maybe being betrayed and abducted by my best friend has something to do with that. But, based on the appreciative way he’s checking me out, he’s referring to my appearance.

I know I look good. Georgie packed up all my stuff and had it sent to me, and she snuck in a few of her custom designs made specifically to my measurements, so I haven’t yet reverted to my old hoodies. And while I used to wear my hair wild and loose or up in a messy bun, tonight it’s in an elaborate braid crown like the styles worn at Genesis. I spent hours following a video tutorial to get it just right. When Sal had seen it, she’d pruned a length of ivy and woven it through the braid.

I’m not the only one who’s changed. Kor’s thinner and paler, and his hair is longer. It all lends him a harshly delicate beauty. But his eyes are as soulful as ever, and I can’t quite reconcile that with what I now know about him.

Kor offers me some of his beer, and I’m tempted to sip. I need the buzz to get through this pseudo-intimacy. But I hate the bitter taste of hops, and dulling my discomfort won’t fix any of this, so I push the bottle away and force myself to sit with my feelings.

I can’t get over what Kor’s done, but I’m profoundly lonely. I don’t have Izzy, I don’t have any of my Maker friends, and it’s really sinking in howmuch I left behind at Genesis. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. Since I’ve been back, I tried to reach out to some of my friends from high school, but I was never that close to them to begin with, and after months spent among the Makers, the chasm between us felt far too wide to bridge. I wish I had Georgie, Hypatia, Mbali, even my hoverjoust team. When Georgie sent my stuff back, she also gifted me her hoverboard. I cried when I saw it. I hope my team doesn’t resent me too much for not returning for the rest of the tournament.

I miss Michael, too, but I try not to think about him. It hurts too much. I feel like I let him down. And while I’ll be able to stay in touch with Georgie, and some of the others through her, he feels off-limits.

I toy with the folded loam pigeon in my pocket. It’s the same one Michael gave me all those months ago on the day we met. The Families took it apart and ran all kinds of tests on it, then they asked me to put it back together. I was able to replace the sense and fold it into shape, but I couldn’t reanimate it. Animation isn’t a skill I came anywhere close to learning during my time at Genesis. So it’s just a lifeless origami pigeon now. Useless enough that hopefully the Families won’t notice I stole it back.

Though I don’t know why I even bothered. It’s just a reminder of everything I can’t do. That I can’t go back. That although Michael may have said that if I ever need his help he would come for me, I’ve severed that connection as well.

Dumb dead bird.

I pull my hand out of my pocket before I crush the loam between my fingers.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to have you back,” Kor says. “Once you know how much more is out there, it’s so hard to connect with everyone else.”

I was just thinking the same thing a few moments ago, but when he saysit, it sounds so elitist. It reminds me of the way Rafe talks about provincial people. But if I’m going to influence Kor, that’s not the approach to take.

“I know what you mean,” I say. “Everything here feels two-dimensional in comparison.”

“I want to know what it was like,” he says.

So I tell him.

Not the stuff I shared over our video calls and with the Inner Chamber. But all the best parts. Everything I loved.

He takes another sip of his beer, and I’m hit with a strong image from my strange dream weeks ago—that I still haven’t managed to shake—of him drinking a glass of wine. The echoing memory of a crack of thunder sends chills down my spine, and I visibly shiver. Kor puts his arm around me, and the feel and scent of him drive away the dream and conjure up years of longing instead. I let him pull me close, and I rest my head on his shoulder as I keep talking. I tell him about hoverjousting and about watching the animation of a golem I made with my own hands. I feel his breath quicken with excitement when I describe the Valkyries flying.

“You would love it, Kor.”

“I know I would.”

“And yet you want to tear it down?”

“Not at all,” he says softly. So softly. “I just want to share their wonders with our world.”

“Me too.” I feel like I’m so close. That with more time, I’ll be able to make him see. Despite everything he’s done, I can’t help but still believe his heart is good.

Kor takes my hand in his, stroking my scar with his thumb, and even without the beer, I start to feel tipsy.

“Being a Sire has really amped up my creativity,” he says. “Have you always had this constant artistic urge?”

“I guess.” I hear the unspoken part of the question.If you have, then why have you done so little with it?

“That’s not the only constant urge, if you know what I mean.” He laughs.

My face goes red hot. He’s talking about his libido. Because, apparently, Sires are all a bunch of floozies. I had the absolute most embarrassing conversation with Hypatia about it.

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