“A good one, too.” Karl’s smile is small but genuine. “According to the file, the Guard tried on several occasions to change her mind about leaving.”
“Wait.” I shove my glass away. I need to be clearheaded here. Because if he’s saying what I think . . .? “The Guard knew she was leaving and was okay about it?”
Karl taps on the iPad. “Obviously not, as they tried to convince her to stay.”
“But she left.” I can hardly believe this. Since Cameron told us the truth about Molly, I’d just assumed they’d snuck off like I had. But she left, and they knew, and she still did it.
There’s hope I can get out of this alive after all.
“Before you go too far with this line of thinking,” Karl says quietly, “neither the Guard nor the Council knew you were leaving. Molliaria Hellebore wasn’t a first tier Council member, nor was she the only Smith around.”
Well, there goes that bit of hope.
“What’s a Smith?” Will finally asks.
Cameron’s the one to answers. “She was ace with metals, son. Could make anything she wanted with any kind of metal. Could even make metal appear out of thin air.” He holds up his left hand, where a slim silver band laces his ring finger. “Made me this.” His voice is soft. “She was so bloody talented.”
Will stalks back over to the table and asks to view the file. When Karl passes over his iPad, I get up and leave the room. It’s not that I don’t feel welcome while Cameron and Will share this bit of family past, it’s just—this is something father and son need to do alone.
“Not thinking of bolting while I’m not looking, are you?” Karl’s followed me into the living room.
I let out an exasperated laugh. “Believe me, I’ve learned that running away isn’t always the answer.” I bite my lip. “Will you be honest with me?”
His answer is pointed. “I’ve always been honest with you.”
Ouch. I try not to wring my hands like some stupid damsel in distress, but my palms are sweaty and adrenaline is making me woozy. This answer—I need this answer like I need air to breathe. “How is he?”
He crosses his arm. “Which he are we talking about?”
Double ouch. I sink onto the couch and stare at the framed picture on the mantle over the fireplace. It’s Cameron and Molly and Will, maybe three years ago? And they all look happy, like they belong with one another.
I have some pictures of me happy with somebody back in Annar.
Connections are all about whom you belong with. But I’m tired of Fate thinking it can dictate that to me. If I belong to someone, and that person, in turn, belongs to me, it’s going to be because we choose to give ourselves like that, not because some nebulous universal concept deems it so.
It’s funny, but I think I finally, finally understand that concept. I’m not lying when I say, “It’s always been Jonah, Karl.”
He lowers himself down on the couch next to me and studies me, lacing his hands around his knees.
Might as well lay myself bare, since he already knows most of the truth anyway. “Do you know how many times I considered leaving Jonah so I could be with Kellan?” I shake my head slowly. “A lot. I was so, so tempted. Kellan is . . . he’s exciting. With him, there’s always a sense of urgency and heightened emotions. And I don’t know if that’s because it seemed like every time we were together it felt like it could be the last or . . .” I trail off, not knowing exactly how to verbalize what I was thinking or feeling during that year. “Whatever the reason, the damage was done. I was drowning in guilt. He’s my Connection, yes. But Jonah . . .” My hands curl around my sides as I hug myself. “I think this time away has allowed me to realize that, Connection or no, he’s the one for me. The one I need. I dream about him almost every night. I think about him constantly. I worry all day about how he is.” I lay it all out there. “I love him, Karl. Even though I probably don’t have the right to ask, I’m going to anyway. Please tell me how he is.”
Karl chooses his words carefully, but his disappointment in me is obvious. It hurts—but I totally understand it. “How do you think he’s doing? His Connection—his fiancée, to boot—disappeared without a trace. He’s trying his hardest to keep it together and do his increasingly more difficult and time consuming job like the Council expects, and to his credit, he has, but he’s clearly having a hard time with you being gone.”
I want to ask what that means—having a hard time. But Karl beats me to the punch by pulling out his cell phone. “A lot of his free time has been spent pointlessly searching for you. If you mean what you’ve just told me, I think it’s time you call him and set his mind at ease, at least on that front.”