Astrid
The walk back to the apartment felt longer than usual, the magical lanterns dimming behind us one by one as the campus slowly emptied out, the music from the courtyard fading into the distance until only our footsteps remained. I was physically exhausted, the whole night’s tension finally catching up with me all at once.
Ivy was still buzzing about everything, recounting the fortune-teller and the games and the illusion show like she hadn’t lived through any of it already. I barely managed responses.
Xander noticed. "You’re unusually quiet."
"I’m tired."
"Should I be worried?"
"You should enjoy it while it lasts."
He grinned. "There she is."
That earned him the smallest laugh, more breath than sound.
Reed had been walking a step behind us, but I noticed him adjust his pace without a word when mine slowed, matching me without comment, without making it into something that needed acknowledging.
I didn’t say anything either. I just let it happen.
Back at the apartment, Ivy said her goodnights and disappeared toward her room, and I sank onto the couch, finally letting my shoulders drop for what felt like the first time all evening. Every muscle in my body seemed to remember at once exactly how much energy the night had taken out of me.
Xander stayed nearby, launching into a dramatic recounting of his carnival presentation complaints, imitating the formal speech with exaggerated gravity. "We are deeply honored to stand before His Majesty—"
I laughed. "You sounded nothing like that."
"Because I have dignity."
"You stole my notebook in the observatory."
"That was different."
The banter gave me a brief, welcome sense of normality.
Reed walked in a moment later carrying a glass of water, setting it down in front of me. "Drink."
I took it. "You two are becoming annoyingly bossy."
"Becoming?" Xander said, delighted.
I laughed again, though I caught Reed watching me a beat too long, noticing something underneath the humor that I hadn’t quite managed to hide.
Xander eventually wandered off to his room, leaving Reed sitting nearby, not crowding me, just present.
"Are you sure you’re alright?" he asked after a while.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, the King, the fortune-teller, the guard’s lingering gaze. But I remembered exactly why I was here, and how dangerous it would be for anyone to connect the pieces.
"I’m just tired," I said instead.
He studied me for a long moment. "You don’t have to tell me."
I looked at him, surprised. "You’re not going to ask?"
"If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me."
That affected me more than I expected it to. "Thank you," I said quietly.
He simply nodded.
I realized then how little I’d eaten during the carnival, my stomach finally reminding me now that the adrenaline had worn off. Xander returned from the kitchen a few minutes later carrying a small plate.
"What’s this?" I asked.
"Food."
"I can see that."
"Then we’re both learning something tonight."
I smiled despite myself. "You didn’t have to."
He shrugged. "I know."
"Then why did you?"
He looked at me like the answer should have been obvious. "Because you were hungry."
No flirting. No joke this time. Just something quiet and genuine underneath it.
I ate while he pretended not to watch me, though I caught him glancing over more than once, checking without checking.
Xander eventually disappeared to his room, and the apartment settled into quiet. I sat with the empty plate in my lap, staring down at the water glass Reed had left behind.
"Do you ever get tired of taking care of people?" I asked.
Reed looked over. "I don’t take care of everyone."
I turned toward him. "Then why me?"
He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched long enough that I almost took the question back.
"I don’t know yet," he said finally.
Something tightened in my chest, unexpected and sharp. I tried to make light of it. "That’s a terrible answer."
A faint smile crossed his face. "It’s an honest one."
He wasn’t confessing anything. He wasn’t declaring some grand attraction. He was simply admitting, in the smallest possible way, that something about me had already changed how he behaved.
That admission sat with me long after he’d gone quiet again, settling somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.
Later, lying against the couch cushions, too tired to properly make it to my room, I let the events of the night replay in my mind. The King’s eyes finding mine across the crowd. The fear that had gripped me the second I’d realized. The possibility, however small, that my past had finally caught up with me.
But other memories crowded in alongside the fear. Xander making me laugh when all I’d wanted to do was disappear. Reed slowing his pace without a word, matching me without ever mentioning it. Reed respecting my silence instead of demanding an explanation. Xander making sure I actually ate something, quietly, without turning it into a joke. Both of them standing beside me in that crowd when I’d been too frightened to move on my own.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I realized something that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
For years, my greatest fear had been being found.
Now I had a new one.
Being left.
I didn’t know exactly when it had happened, or why I’d let myself care this much about two people I’d sworn to keep at arm’s length. But somehow, these two boys had worked their way into the middle of the life I’d been so desperately trying to protect.
And caring about people was dangerous. People could be taken away. I’d already learned that lesson once, in the worst possible way.
I must have drifted off somewhere in that thought, because the next thing I registered was the soft weight of a blanket settling over me.
Through half-closed eyes, I caught Xander standing over me.
"She’s asleep," he said quietly.
Reed’s voice came from somewhere nearby. "I noticed."
"Don’t wake her," Xander murmured, lowering his voice further.
They left me there, and I let my eyes fall shut again, too tired and too warm beneath the blanket to fight it any longer.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t feel the need to keep one ear open for danger.
I simply let myself sleep.
Maybe that was the most frightening part of all, not that I’d started feeling safe around them, but that I was beginning to like it.