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He lifts the screen and shows me a single, yellow thumb up.
Worry eats away at his red-and-black eyes. “What does this convey?”
“Confirmation,” I state, but my words don’t stop there. “It always seems angry to me, because it doesn’t provide enough information, but it’s not. Parents just text like that, for some reason. It might be a generation gap. Am I vibrating? Pollux, why am I vibrating?”
Pollux clears his throat. “Your phone caught the signal. It’s getting messages.”
“Oh.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and discover that Mom, Willow, Alana, and Brittny have all been trying to contact me, with varying levels of concern. Alana seems to have sent an entire paragraph reprimanding Castor for, yet again, kidnapping a taken woman. Willow wanted me to swipe his knife. Brittny’s messages are updates about how her, Ollie, and Zylus are all waiting for Cael to give the word about sending an army after us.
I…
Am so glad Pila is heading their way.
I simply do not have the energy to respond.
I just don’t.
Even though they all worried about me, the physical pain that rises in my skull at the idea of handling their messages right now is too much.
I’m more responsible than this, but I just can’t.
“Hey,” Pollux soothes, rising and wrapping me in his arms. He slips my phone from my fingers. “I’ll handle it.”
My throat closes. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing.”
“My hands and arms are flecked with gold, Pollux.”
“It’s beautiful.”
It is. It really is. And unlike in my dream when it felt like the sand was invading me, it’s not an irritation anymore. I just don’t know why it’s still here. The obvious answer settles like a rock in my gut, and I don’t know what to do with the possibility.
Releasing me, Pollux steps back and stretches his neck. “Okay.” He shakes his arms and flexes his fingers as they elongate into claws. “Eyes on me.”
“I don’t think they can be anywhere else when you look like this.”
His sharp teeth flash in a smile.
My face explodes crimson. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”
“But you did.”
“By mistake.”
“I like your mistakes.” He lifts his hands above his head. “Arms up.”
I oblige, mimicking his stretch.
When his chest fills with air, I mimic that as well, letting everything out past my lips when he does.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“Your mind is relapsing against the sensation of magic in your veins. We’re making room for it.”
My stomach clenches.
He wraps an arm around my waist and reels me in. “You got tense again.”
