Carry On: The Rise and Fall of Simon Snow
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Read between August 8 - August 8, 2020
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“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn.” Baz’s whole arm is shaking now. I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him. And then I do something I’ve never done before—something I probably wouldn’t try with anyone I was scared of hurting. I push. I take some of the magic that’s always trying to get out of me, and I just push it into Baz. His arm straightens like a rod, and his voice hitches louder—“away home!”—midsentence. The dragon’s wings shudder, and it lurches back. I push a little more magic. I worry that it’s too much, but Baz doesn’t fall ...more
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squeeze hers back. “No. I’ll hurt you.” “You didn’t hurt Baz.” “Maybe I did—he’d never admit it.” “Maybe it didn’t hurt him,” she says, “because he’s already dead.” “Baz isn’t dead.” “Well he’s not alive.” “I . . . I think he is,” I say. “He has magic. That’s life.” “Morgan’s tooth—imagine if you could do it again. If you could actually control your power, Simon.” “Baz was the one controlling my power.” “It was like you were focused for the first time—directed. You were using him like a wand.” I close my eyes. “I wasn’t using him.”
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I wonder if I could take the magic from him if I tried, but the thought turns my stomach. I change in the bathroom and brush my teeth, and when I come out, I see that Snow is sitting up in his bed. “Baz?” “What.” I sit on my own bed, on top of the covers. “I . . . can you come here?” “No.” “I can come over there, then.” I cross my legs and arms. “You may not.” Snow huffs, exasperated. Good, I think. “Just. Come here,” he says. “Okay? I have to try something.” “Can you even hear how ridiculous you sound?” He gets up. It’s dark in our room, but the moon is out, and I can always see him better ...more
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“Merlin, Baz, don’t you want to know?” “Whether I can tap into you like a generator?” “It wasn’t like that,” he says. “I let you do it.” “Are you going to let me do it again?” “No.” “Then it doesn’t matter if it was a fluke!” Snow’s still sitting on my bed. “All right,” he says. “Maybe.” “Maybe what?” “Maybe I’d do it again,” he says. “If it were a situation like today—if there were lives at risk, and this might be a solution, an option other than, you know, going off.” “What if I turned it against you?” “My magic?” “Yes,” I say. “What if I took your magic, cast it against you, and settled Baz ...more
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He grabs my hand. I want to pull it away, but I don’t want to look scared—and also I don’t want to pull it away. Bloody Snow. I’m thinking violent thoughts at him right now. “I’m going to try now,” he says. “Fine.” “Should you be casting a spell?” “I don’t know,” I say. “This is your experiment.” “Don’t, then,” he says. “Not right away. But tell me if it hurts.” “It didn’t hurt before,” I mutter. “It didn’t?” “No.” “What did it feel like?” “Stop talking about feelings,” I say, shaking his hand. “Hit me. Or charge me. Whatever it is you want to do.” Snow licks his bottom lip and closes his eyes ...more
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“Are you holding back at all?” I ask him. “Not consciously,” Snow says. “Is it too much?” “No. It’s like you completed the circuit,” I say, gripping his other hand. “I feel kind of drunk, though.” “Drunk on power?” he asks. I giggle. “Shit, Snow. Stop talking. This is embarrassing.”
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He looks uncharacteristically thoughtful. I wonder if he’s forgotten that he’s holding my hands. Or if he’s forgotten what it means to hold hands. Or if he’s forgotten who I am entirely. I think again about pulling my hands away—but Snow could light fires in my palms at this point, and I wouldn’t pull away. It feels like he has. “Baz,” he says, and it’s not unprecedented for him to say my name, but I know he avoids it. “This is stupid. If we’re going to be working together, you can’t keep pretending that I don’t know.” “Don’t know what,” I say, yanking my hands back. “Don’t know about you. ...more
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“So what’s your plan next week? For the holidays?” I feel my jaw tighten. “Probably go home with Penny for a few days, then spend the rest of it here.” “Not celebrating round the Wellbelove family hearth?” I slam my wardrobe shut. We haven’t talked about this yet. Me and Baz. About Agatha.
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I don’t know if the pair of them’re talking. Or meeting. Agatha doesn’t even come to dinner anymore. I think she eats in her room. “Nope,” I say, walking past his bed. “Snow,” he says. “What.” “You should come to Hampshire.” I stop and look at him. “What? Why?” Baz clears his throat and folds his arms, lifting his chin to emphasize how much he looks down on me. “Because you’ve sworn to help me find my mother’s killer.” “I am helping you.” “Well, you’ll be more help to me there than you are here. The library at home is far too big for me to cover myself. And I have a car there—we could actually ...more
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“Yes, and? So do I.” “They want to kill me,” I say. “They won’t kill you—you’ll be a guest. I’ll even cast the spell if you want. Be our guest.” “I can’t stay in your house. Are you kidding me?” “Snow, we’ve lived in the same room for seven years. How can you have a problem w...
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Look, you’ve got a clear shot at her now. She’s done with me.” “She interrupted me,” he says. “That day in the Wood.” I ignore him. “She interrupted my dinner. She saw me. I was asking her not to tell anyone.” “And you had to hold her hands for that?” “I only did that bit to piss you off. I knew you were watching.” “Well, it worked,” I say. “You’re not listening.” He’s looking very pained now. “I’m not ever going to come between you and Wellbelove. I was always just trying to piss you off.” “Are you saying you flirted with Agatha just to hurt me?” “Yes.” “You never cared about her?” “No.” I ...more
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“Fuck you, Baz. Seriously.” I’m standing so close, I’m practically spitting in his face. “She was carrying around your bloody handkerchief, that whole time you were gone. Since last year.” “What handkerchief?” I go to the drawer where the handkerchief is shoved in with my wand and a few other things, then I wave it in his face. “This one.” Baz pulls the fabric out of my hand, and I pull it right back because I don’t want him to have it. I don’t want him to have anything right now. “Look,” he says. “I’ll stop. I’ll leave Wellbelove alone from now on. She doesn’t matter to me.” “That makes it ...more
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“Basilton . . . Mr. Pitch.” I let the instrument drop from my chin and turn. Vera is standing at the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But your friend is here to see you.” “I’m not expecting anyone.” “It’s a friend from school,” she says. “He’s wearing your uniform.”
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When I get to the foyer, Simon Snow is standing there like a lost dog. Or an amnesia victim. He’s wearing his Watford coat and heavy leather boots, and he’s covered in snow and muck. Vera must have told him to stay on the rug, because he’s standing right in the middle of it. His hair is a mess, and his face is flushed, and he looks like he might go off right there, without any provocation. I stop at the arched entrance to the foyer, tuck my wand in my sleeve, and slip my hands into my pockets. “Snow.” He jerks his head up. “Baz.”
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“I’m trying to imagine what you’re doing at my door. . . . Did you roll down a very steep hill and land here?” “Baz . . . ,” he says again. And I wait for him to get it out. “You’re—you’re wearing jeans.” I tilt my head. “I am. And you’re wearing half the countryside.” “I had to walk from the road.” “Did you?” “The taxi driver was afraid to come down your drive. He thinks your house is haunted.” “It is.” He swallows. Snow has the longest neck and the showiest swallow I’ve ever seen. His chin juts out and his Adam’s apple catches—it’s a whole scene. “Well,” I say, pointedly lifting my eyebrows. ...more
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“All right, Snow,” he says, “what the hell are you doing here?” “You invited me,” I say. So lame. So eternally lame. “Is that why you’re here? For Christmas?” “No. I’m here because I have something to tell you—but you did invite me.” He shakes his head like I’m an idiot. “Just tell me. Is it about my mother?” “I found out who Nicodemus is.” That gets his attention. He stands up again. “Who?” “He’s Ebb’s brother.” “Ebb your girlfriend?”
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“Ebb the goatherd.” “She doesn’t have a brother.” “She does,” I say. “A twin. He was stricken from the Book when he became a vampire.” I swear Baz’s face gets even whiter. “Ebb’s brother was Turned? They struck him from the Book for that?” “No, he joined up with the vampires himself. Voluntarily.” “What?” Baz sneers. “That isn’t actually how it works, Snow.” I step into his space. “How does it work, Baz?” “You don’t fucking join up.”
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“Doesn’t know, does she? Well,” he says, “we’ll see about that.” I put my hand on his chest. I don’t have to step any closer to reach him. “No,” I say firmly. “Ebb doesn’t know where Nicodemus is. We’re not talking to her again.” Baz swallows and licks his grey-pink lower lip. “I’ll talk to the goatherd if I want to, Snow.” “Not if you want my help.” I keep my hand on his chest because I feel like he still needs to be held back, but I can’t believe he’s letting me do it. His hand flies up and closes over my wrist. (As if he’s read my mind.) (Is that a vampire thing?) “Fine,” he says, shoving ...more
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“Well,” I say, “I’d better head back. Send a message if you hear more. You can try to call, but I don’t think there’s anyone answering the school phone over break.”
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“What?” He scowls up at me. “I said, send a message if—” “You’re not leaving now.” “I told you everything I know.” “Snow, you came in on the last train, then you walked for an hour. You haven’t eaten all day, and your hair’s still wet—you’re not going anywhere tonight.” “Well, I can’t stay here.” “You haven’t burst into flames yet.” “Baz, listen—” He cuts me off with a hand. “No.”
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Snow was a wreck at dinner. Which I might have enjoyed if I wasn’t so desperate for him to stay.
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Father seems to think I have some dark plan at work. (I guess I do have a dark plan, but this time it has nothing to do with disabling Snow.) He—Father—pulled me aside after dinner and asked if I wanted him to call in the Families for assistance. “No,” I said. “Please don’t. Snow’s just here for a school project.” Father practically winked.
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I’ve never actually sat at a table with Snow before. I let myself watch him, and let myself enjoy it, at least for a few minutes. I keep doing that, since this all started—indulging myself. (What’s that they say about having dessert first if you’re on the Titanic?) Snow’s table manners are atrocious—it’s like watching a wild dog eat. A wild dog you’d like to slip the tongue. After dinner, we go to the library and I show him what I’ve found on vampires. He keeps moving away from me, and I pretend not to notice. We should probably call Bunce and see what she thinks of all this—I’ll suggest it ...more
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Snow lowers his eyebrows. “When you look at it that way, why doesn’t everyone cross over?” “Because it’s death,” I say. “It clearly isn’t.” “They say your soul dies.” “That’s tosh,” he says. “How would you know, Snow?” “Observation.” “Observation,” I say. “You can’t observe a soul.” “You can over time,” he says. “I think I’d know—” “It’s death,” I say, “because you need to eat life to stay alive.” “That’s everyone,” he says. “That’s eating.” “It’s death,” I say, refusing to raise my voice, “because when you’re hungry, you can’t stop thinking about eating other people.” Snow sits back. His ...more
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“Come on,” Baz says. “I’ll show you to your room.” My room turns out to be the creepiest one yet: There’s a dragon painted on the archway around the door, and its face is charmed to glow and follow you in the dark. Plus there’s something under the bed. I don’t know exactly what, but it moans and clicks and makes the bedposts shake. I end up at Baz’s door, telling him I’m going back to Watford. “What?” He’s half asleep when he comes to the door. And flushed—he must have gone hunting after I went to bed. Or maybe they keep kennels for him on the grounds. “I’m leaving,” I say. “That room is ...more
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“The whole house is haunted, I told you.” “I’m leaving.” “Come on, Snow, you can sleep on my couch. The wraiths don’t hang out in here.” “Why not?” “I creep them out.” “You creep me out,” I mutter, and he throws one of his pillows into my face. (It smells like him.) I realize, as I’m settling in on his couch, that I don’t mean it. About him creeping me out. I used to mean it. I usually do. But he’s the most familiar thing in this house, and I fall asleep better, listening to Baz breathe, than I have since winter break started.
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We find the car, his father’s Jaguar, and Baz has it started before I’ve even opened the passenger door. As soon as I’m inside, he jerks out of the parking spot and guns it, driving as fast as he can down the busy street. He rides up on a taxi, then wrenches the car into the next lane. “Hey,” I say. “Shut up, Snow.” “Look—” “Shut up!” He says it with magic, but he’s not holding his wand, so it doesn’t go anywhere. Then he grabs his wand, and I thinks he’s going to curse me, but instead he points it at a bus. “Make way for the king!” The bus changes lanes, but there’s another car just ahead of ...more
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“This is what my mother would want for me, you idiot.” I drop to my knees in front of him. “What are you even talking about?” He sneers at me, baring his teeth—all of them. His canines are as sharp as a wolf’s. “My mother died killing vampires,” he says. “And when they bit her, she killed herself. It’s the last thing she did. If she knew what I am . . . She would never have let me live.” “That’s not true,” I say. “She loved you. She called you her ‘rosebud boy.’ ” “She loved what I was!” he shouts. “I’m not that boy anymore. I’m one of them now.” “You’re not.” “Haven’t you been trying to prove ...more
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I grab his wrists and pull. “That’s right,” I say, “it can’t be. You always said you’d make sure there was an audience when you finished me off.” I pull on him. “Come on.” Baz doesn’t fight me, just slumps forward. A cloud of sparks settles near him, and I growl at them, blowing them out. I lift up his chin. “Baz.” “Go away, Snow.” “You’re not a monster,” I say. His face is cold as a corpse in my hand. “I was wrong. All those years. You’re a bully. And a snob. And a complete arsehole. But you’re not one of them.” Baz tries to jerk his face away, but I hold it fast. He opens his eyes, and ...more
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I think I might kiss him before I send him flying. (Can I get him away from me without breaking any of his bones? What spell will keep him away, so he doesn’t come running back into the fire?)
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He shakes his head, and he’s saying something, and I think I might kiss him.
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Because I’ve never kissed anyone before. (I was afraid I might bite.) And I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone but him. (I won’t bite. I won’t hurt him.) I just want to kiss him, then go. “Simon . . . ,” I say. And then he kisses me.
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Baz’s mouth is colder than Agatha’s. Because he’s a boy, I think, and then: No, because he’s a monster. He’s not a monster. He’s just a villain. He’s not a villain. He’s just a boy. I’m kissing a boy. I’m kissing Baz. He’s so cold, and the world is so hot.
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I am going to die kissing Simon Snow. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.
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I look at Baz. Was that it? Did he just need me to kiss him to snap out of his suicidal funk? He drops his wand and reaches up to my jumper (his jumper), then pulls it down at the neck. With his other hand, he tears open my shirt collar, popping the top button, and grabs at my cross, eyeing the chain. He gives the cross a good yank—the chain snaps—and he tosses it away. Then Baz looks at me like he always looks at me when he’s about to attack.
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I’m not sure what we’re doing, to be perfectly honest—but nothing’s on fire anymore. And I feel like maybe we’ve solved something. Even though this is probably just a new problem.
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For a minute, I think about Agatha, and I feel like a bounder, but then I remember that we’re not together anymore, so it’s not cheating. And then I think about whether this, what’s happening right now, means that I’m gay.
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I wonder how long he’s wanted this. I wonder how long I’ve wanted it. I’d say that I didn’t—that the possibility just now occurred to me for the first time. But if that’s true, then why is there a list in my head of all the things I’ve always wanted to do to Baz. Like this: I push my hand up into his hair. It’s smooth and slips through my fingers. I clench my fist in it, and he jams his face forward into mine—then just as suddenly snatches his head away. “Sorry,” I say. (I’m out of breath. It’s embarrassing.) Baz lets go of my jumper and shakes his head, holding on to his forehead. “No. It’s . ...more
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see anything. “—too long.” He glances back at me, then sheepishly away. “Look, I have to . . . hunt. Will you wait?” “I’ll go with you,” I say. “Crowley,” he says, “you will not.” I jump up. “Can it be anything?” “What?” “Anything with blood, yeah?” “What?” he says again. “Yeah.” I take his hand. “Call something. There must be hunting spells.” “There are,” he says, lowering his eyebrows. “But they only work at close range.” I squeeze his hand. He takes out his wand, watching me like I’m being an extra-special idiot. “Doe!” he says, pointing his wand into the trees. “A deer!” My magic shimmers ...more
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Snow’s quiet when we get to the car. And I’m quiet because I genuinely have no idea how to proceed. How do you pick up from, “I have to stop kissing you, so I can go drink some blood.” “You’re a vampire,” Snow says finally. (I guess that’s how you pick up.) I don’t answer. “You really are,” he says. I start the engine.
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“I can’t believe you’re asking me this, Snow. You, who can’t walk away from half a sandwich.” “So you don’t know?” “I’ve never tried. I’m not . . . that. My father would kill me if I touched a person.” (I think he really would, if I bit a person. He probably should, anyway.) “Hey,” Snow says, wrinkling his forehead at me, “don’t.” “What?” “Think. Whatever you’re thinking. Stop.” I exhale, frustrated. “Why doesn’t this all bother you?” “What?” “I’m a vampire.”
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“No, Snow. I don’t have a death wish. I wish I did—it would make everything easier.” “Please stop talking like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then he turns to me, abruptly. “Is that why you kissed me? To keep me from killing myself?” I shake my head. “Not exactly. I mean, I did want to keep you from killing yourself.” “Why, then?” he asks. “Why did I kiss you?” “Yeah.” “I guess I wanted to,” I say, shrugging. “Since when?” I shrug again, and it pisses him off. He wedges another log into the fire. “Did you want me to?” I ask. “No,” he says. “Why would I want that? Why would ...more
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“You don’t have to be such a prat,” I say. “We’re on the same side here.” “For the moment,” Baz says. “You’ll help me find out who killed my mother, I’ll kill whoever it is, and then you’ll make sure I get thrown in a tower for it. You’ve already won—as soon as you tell the Mage I’m a vampire, he’ll pull out my fangs and snap my wand. I’ll end up in Covent Garden, licking Nicodemus’s heels. And that’s if I’m lucky.” Does Baz really think I’d do that? Now? “Those vampires were in awe of you,” I say. “They wanted to put a crown on your head.” “Are you suggesting I cross over?” “No. I’m just ...more
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There’s a cross-shaped burn on my palm from when I yanked his necklace off last night. (His cross is on the other side of the room now; Snow took care of it himself this time.) He brings my palm to his mouth and kisses it. “I didn’t think you were gay,” I say. Quietly. He shrugs. Half of Snow’s sentences are shrugs. “What does that mean?” I whisper. “I don’t know,” he says, closing his eyes. “I guess I’ve never thought much about what I am. I’ve got a lot on my plate.” That makes me laugh. A juvenile snorty laugh. Snow starts laughing with me. “A lot on your plate?” I repeat. “Are you gay?” he ...more
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“I always thought you were going to kill me,” I say. “Me, too,” he says. “I tried not to think about it.” I wind my fingers in his hair. It’s thicker than mine, and curlier, and it shines golden in the firelight. There’s a mole on his cheek that I’ve wanted to kiss since I was 12. I do. “For a long time,” I say. “Hmmm?” He opens one eye. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Almost since we met . . .” Snow closes his eyes again and smiles like he’s trying not to. I smile, too, only because he isn’t watching. “I thought it was going to kill me.”
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I wake up at least an hour before Snow. It’s hard not to watch him sleep. I’ve done it before—excessively—but that’s when I thought I was never going to get any more than that. That’s when creeping on Snow felt like my life’s consolation prize. I’m still not sure what’s happening between us. We kissed last night. And this morning. A lot. Does that mean we get to do it today? He’s not even sure that he’s gay.
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He’s lying on my couch, and I’m sitting at the end, next to his legs. He rolls into the cushions, burying his face. “You don’t get to watch me sleep now,” he says, “just because we’re snogging.” “Just because we snogged,” I correct him. “And I’m not watching you; I’m trying to figure out how to wake you up without you pulling a sword on me.” “I’m up,” he says, dragging one of the cushions down over his head. “Come on. Bunce is on her way.” He lifts the pillow up. “What? Why?” “I told her we have new information—she has some, too. We’re having a briefing.” He sits up. “So she’s just coming ...more
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I prop the board up in the library, and I’m making columns—Everything we know and Everything we still don’t—when Snow walks into the room. I ignore him. “It’s not that I think you’ll betray us,” he says. I make a noise that I’m afraid sounds a lot like “harrumph.” Simon hassles his curls with one hand. “It’s just . . . Well, it’s still weird between us, isn’t it?” I continue ignoring him. “I mean . . . you haven’t said . . . that things are different now for you. I’ve said that I’m not going to kill you.”
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“ ‘The rest,’ ” I say, turning around. “Way to oversimplify a decade of corruption and abuse of power.” “Are you talking about the Mage?” “Yes.”
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He looks pained. “I wish you wouldn’t.” “How can I not talk about the Mage when I’m talking to the Mage’s Heir?” “Is that how you think of me?” “Isn’t that how you think of yourself? Oh, right. I forgot—you don’t think at all.” Simon groans and rakes at his hair. “Jesus Christ. Do you ever not go for the lowest blow? Like, do you ever think, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say the most cruel thing just now?’ ” “I’m trying to be efficient.” He leans against the shelf where I’ve set the whiteboard. “It’s vicious.”