Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

I play the beginning of a song. After a minute, Snow brings his free hand up and wipes his cheek with the back of his wrist. I keep playing. He wipes his eyes again. I pull the bow away. “Don’t stop,” he says. “Is it making you cry?” “Partly. Isn’t that what it’s for?” I laugh. “No.” He elbows me, so I start playing again. I suppose I have picked a melancholy song . . . (I like melancholy songs.) Snow messes about with the sword, occasionally wiping his cheek on his bare shoulder. When I’m done, I lay the violin in my lap. Simon passes the sword to his left hand and slumps into my side. “Do you think it’s real?” he asks. “The sword?” “Do you think I was a magician? All along?” His voice is rough, and his cheeks are flushed. There’s one damp curl hanging over his forehead. “Yes,” I say. “That’s clear now.” He hides his face in my T-shirt. “It’s too much for me.” I set the violin on the floor by the bed, then rest my hand over his on the hilt of the sword. He lets go. For a moment, I wonder if I’ll be able to lift it, but I can. I set it by the bed, too. Simon crawls half into my lap, burrowing his face into my chest. I lay my cheek on top of his head and hold him behind his ears. “It would be too much for anyone,” I say.