“In herown time,” Julian said. “She told you so herself.”
“Besides,” Titus added, “she didn’t get angry aboutthat. She was angry about the way you’ve been treating her.”
“Great job,” Julian echoed sarcastically.
“You can’t just make her upset for the sake of getting upset,” Titus said, rolling to his side.
“It’s like you’ve learned nothing about human emotions at all.” Julian had decided his new stick was pointy enough and returned to stabbing at the kindling.
“Ha-ha,” I frowned at them. How dare they bring up my greatest source of shame. “It’s not like you two are any better. We’re all behind.”
Julian sighed, his movements stilling. “We need Miles.”
“I thought you were afraid.” Titus shot Julian a surprised look. “Wasn’t that why you were happy he left?”
“I wasn’t afraid, and I wasn’t happy he left.” Julian pointed his stick at Titus. “Bianca was upset.”
“But you don’t want him to get stronger either,” Titus pointed out. “Because it means your little party is over.”
“Mind your business,” the necromancer calmly replied. “I’ve been doing perfectly fine.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t resist the opportunity to call him out—Julian so rarely let his flaws show. “Does that mean you like Finn now?”
He glared at me, and then, slowly and deliberately broke the stick in half.
“Very impressive,” I teased. “You’ve defeated a twig.”
“And that’s all your brother is to me,” Julian replied, his voice icily calm. “Remember that.”
Before I could respond, the eerie hoot of a great-horned owl sounded through the forest; the first sounds besides us in a while. Bianca had been quiet since disappearing, and I’d been hesitant to bother her.
We had a rule—one that had worked well for us through many lifetimes—and it was to never, ever intervene or undermine each other when there was a conflict. Our individual relationships and our quintet relationship were two entirely different things.
And that was unquestionably what was between Bianca and I right now.
Although, now that I thought about it, it wasn’t much of a fight at all. I’d essentially been bullying her to get a reaction.
I only wanted her to be herself again. But maybe Titus was right after all:she didn’t have to be strong right now.
Sighing, I glanced at the tent once again. I’d been trying to avoid looking since she’d left. The memory of her shattered expression tore at my heart, and the distance between us only served to remind me.
But it had been long enough. She should have had a chance to calm down by now.
“Fix this.” Julian threw the broken sticks until the fire, pushing himself to his feet, and the glower he threw in my direction would have struck fear into the heart of a lesser man. “Or you won’t even get the chance to live to regret it.”
Titus also stood, pressing his hands against his low back as he stretched, and then the two of them disappeared into the forest; lingering nearby, but far enough to give us privacy.
Such was the nature of our agreement.
I glanced at the tent again, my chest swelling with a foreign and unwelcome energy.
Was I nervous? Impossible.
Maybe it was too soon; she’d wanted to be left alone. The plea had been thick in her voice, reverberating through me—the only person in the world I would willingly take an order from.
I couldn’t barge in there now—
Then, as though the gentle wind had brought it directly to me, I heard it.