Page 86 of Rejected Hollow

He still didn’t let go of my hand.

By the time I went back to the tower, I was wearing Jax’s shirt and a pair of his tracksuit bottoms that I had rolled four times at the ankles. Without my glasses, the whole walk back had been a blur, so I nearly missed them waiting for me on the top step.

They had been folded neatly inside a clean white handkerchief.

Everything else Delphine had taken was stacked beside them with almost absurd precision: my sweater, my jeans, my towel, and my shoes placed carefully side by side. At the bottom were my plain cotton panties and the bra with the frayed strap, both folded into a small, discreet square with such meticulous care that whoever had handled them appeared to have been determined to make the whole thing as impersonal as possible.

A single dark rose rested on top.

I put my glasses on with unsteady hands, and the world sharpened around me again. Then I picked up the handkerchief. It was plain white linen, expensive enough that I noticed the quality immediately, with a faint brown smear of soil along one fold.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted it to my face.

Cedar. Snow.

My body reacted before irritation even had a chance to catch up, sending one faint, treacherous pulse between my legs.

Apparently dignity had no influence whatsoever on the mate bond.

I sat on the top step of the Lantern Tower wearing Jax Rivera’s clothes and holding Kaelen Vance’s handkerchief, unable to decide whether I found the situation funny or horrifying. Eventually I gave up trying to decide and simply stayed there for a while, turning the linen between my fingers, breathing in the scent that still clung to it, and feeling faintly disgusted with myself for how much I liked it.

At lunch, Tamsin dropped onto the bench beside me with her eyes already wide.

“Silas broke the post,” she said. “In the Pit. You know the big oak training post that’s been there forever? He went down there late this morning, right after you came back across the courtyard, and the Bramblegate prefect saw the whole thing. One hit. He broke it clean in half with his hand.”

She stared at me as though I might be able to explain this.

“Nobody knows why,” she continued. “He’s barely said a word to anyone all term. What happened to everybody? It’s like the whole island lost its mind last night.”

I glanced down at Jax’s shirt and the tracksuit bottoms bunched around my ankles.

Then I thought about cinnamon and warm skin, followed immediately by breakfast and the way Silas had gone completely still when he caught Kaelen’s scent on my throat.

I decided I had nothing useful to contribute.

“Also,” Tamsin went on, lowering her voice, “everyone’s talking about Jax. Obviously. Half of Solace is furious and the other half is in love with you.” She paused. “And he told me what happened. Don’r worry, no pictures have turned up. Not one. I have been asking everyone, and there’s nothing. It’s like they never—”

She stopped because the rest of the hall was stopping too.

At the head of the Fenhall table, Kaelen Vance had risen to his feet and started walking toward the far end.

He moved at his usual measured pace, giving no sign that several hundred people were beginning to watch him. He passed eight or nine Fenhall students, each of whom suddenly developed an intense interest in whatever was on their plates, before stopping behind a dark-haired girl near the end of the table.

I recognized her immediately.

She was the girl from the stairs. The one with the phone.

She looked up at Kaelen, and the color drained from her face.

He held out one hand, palm up, and said nothing.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Then the girl reached into her jacket pocket with trembling fingers, pulled out her phone, and placed it in his hand.

Kaelen closed his fingers around it.

A sharp crack cut through the hall.

When he opened his hand again, the phone was bent almost double, the screen fractured from edge to edge. He let the two pieces fall into the girl’s soup without so much as looking at them.