Page 148 of Bone Year

It’s Emil.

Draven’s eyes find mine, and gods help me, they’re still gold. Still on me in a way that makes the air in the blind feel two degrees warmer than it is.

“Rose.”

“Yes?”

“We are going to talk about that.”

My breath catches.

“Are we?”

I turn away before he sees something on my face that I’m not ready to put words to, and I push myself up off the wall and pull the door open before this conversation can go anywhere, I’m not ready to take it.

Because gods, I don’t even know what we were about to do.

The wind comes in first, and Emil ducks under the lintel after it, his cloak weighted with snow, his silver hair gone stiff with frost where it has come out of his hood.

“Ah. Miss Rose, Mister Alucard, you are alive.”

His face is a shade paler than the last time I saw him. The skin around his eyes looks bruised, like a body that has been giving more than it has and knows it.

“What’s happened?” Draven asks, his eyes narrowing.

“There’s been an incident in the Shorelands. A large fissure opened this morning, not cycle sized but close.”

He shakes his head, his eyes dropping to the floor.

A chill that has nothing to do with the wind flits up my spine.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Is everyone alright?”

“The fissure was long, and there have been many casualties. Many more injured. You’re the last pair I’ve come to thread back to campus. Your help will be needed.”

My stomach drops out from under me.

“Is Jace alright?”

My hand is on Emil’s shoulder before I know I’ve reached for him, and my fingers have closed around the wet wool of his cloak hard enough that I see his pale eyes flick down to where I am gripping him.

“Did you bring Jace back okay?”

He doesn’t meet my stare.

“Emil, tell me.”

Something is off. I can’t lose Jace before we mend things. The last time I saw him…The look he gave me… If something has happened to him…

“Take us now, Emil,” Draven insists.

I turn to look at him.

Whatever he saw in my face has changed his. The gold has gone out of his eyes. His jaw has gone tight. The man who was leaning over me a minute ago with his thumb at my mouth is gone, and in his place is the version of Draven I met at Ashwell.

Emil steps between us before I can find my voice, one hand settling on my shoulder, the other on Draven’s. The pressure of his grip is firm, and I close my eyes.

I’m not ready for any of this.