Page 120 of Legacy Elite

Two of them I've had for months — the two dark curves I've caught myself looking at in lecture halls.

And below them, a third. Following the same curve, dark as ink and absolutely permanent.

Not quite a circle. You can see where a circle could be.

"Well," Soren says.

Nobody laughs.

He's let go of Luke's shoulder — because that's who caught me on that side, apparently — and now he takes my hand instead, carefully, and turns my wrist up, and looks at it.

He doesn't touch the mark. His thumb stays about half an inch below it.

I've watched it for a year and a half. The whole place drops half a note. Conversations get quieter without stopping. People move their chairs an inch they don't need to move them. Half the room finds something else to look at and the other half sits up straighter, and none of them decide to do it — it just happens, the way you'd flinch at a loud noise.

"God I remember when I first saw you." He's still holding my wrist. "You looked up. You said good morning. And you went back to your breakfast."

I can’t take my eyes off of him.

"You had your mouth full," Soren says.

"That's it?" I say. "I said good morning?"

"Everybody in that hall reacted to us," Soren says. "You greeted me and dismissed me." He finally looks up. "Nobody had ever done that."

"Soren—"

"I knew then," he says. "And I have spent every single day since telling myself that I only suspected."

I don't know what to say, so I look at Luke instead.

Who has not said one word since it happened.

Who is standing perfectly still with his hand half-raised where it fell away from my neck, watching Soren hold my wrist.

And who does not look surprised.

Not even slightly. There's no shock anywhere on Luke Draeven's face.

"Luke," I say.

"Mm."

"You're not saying anything."

"No," Luke agrees. He puts his hand down. "I'm not."

Then his eyes go past me, over my shoulder, toward the gate.

And his whole face changes.

Ander's about twenty feet away.

I don't know how long he's been standing there. Long enough. He's got his training bag over his shoulder and he has stopped completely, and he is looking at my wrist, and I watch him count.

One. Two. Three.

Something goes through him.