Page 56 of Shattered Stars
“Phoenix,” I say when he answers the call. Lessons will be over now and I imagine him holed up in his office, bent over his books. Or maybe he’s in his cabin with Rhianna.
Do I want her to know of this?
I scratch at the stubble on my cheek. I promised no more secrets, to be honest and open with her.
“I thought you’d be halfway to the border by now,” my friend says.
“The chancellor sent for me.”
My friend is quiet for a long minute, then he asks, his voice strained, “Is everything okay, Azlan?”
I recount the conversation between the chancellor and myself, everything he told me. Phoenix is quiet again.
“This is dangerous.”
“Why do you think I’m calling you?”
“What will you do? About Moreau?”
“I’ll question him as asked and hope to God he’s noticed nothing unusual about Rhianna.”
“Azlan, he’s best friends with your cousin. He may know about your bonding.”
I screw up my eyes. Damn. Damn. If the boy was unobservant like every other dumb rich kid in the academy, this would be easy. Then I could carry out my order and forget all about it. If the chancellor decided to check up on my work, the Moreau boy would say I’d asked him some questions about the girl, and there would be nothing to cause the chancellor any alarm.
If he has something to tell me, this all becomes more complicated.
“I’ll find a way to handle this,” I tell Stone, “just … make sure Rhi is aware.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“No more secrets, Phoenix. And tell her what the chancellor said about her mom. She’s keen for every scrap of information.”
“I know. She wants to explore the memories in her head again.”
I take a sharp intake of breath. “You can’t let her–”
“That’s what I told her.”
We’re both quiet again, his breath whistling into my ear down the receiver.
“I’ll call you again when I arrive at the camp.”
“Enjoy your time with Moreau,” Phoenix says, then hangs up.
I tuck my phone away, and start the bike. I’ve been told to meet the boy outside the academy, the college having lent him a bike of his own for the journey.
I consider whether I could sneak to see Rhi before I meet the boy but the risk is too great and I have to content myself with gazing wistfully in the direction of the campus, knowing she’s somewhere within.
There’s quite a crowd waiting for me when I pull up. The principal, a handful of the teachers, most of what looks like the dueling team and several cheerleaders.
The Moreau boy, to my surprise, stands away from the rest of them, the principal next to him, talking to him softly.
He’s dark like his elder brother was, only somehow bigger – and his brother was a giant. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a hoodie, a hiking backpack resting by his legs.
His bike is already parked up and I pull up alongside it and slide down to my feet, the crowd all watching me, one or two of the girls sobbing.
“Spencer Moreau?” I ask, stopping in front of the boy and the principal.
