he says. “I don’t think this is the first time you’ve blown up your own life. Have you ever tried fixing it instead?”
“What do you mean?”
“You want connection, don’t you? Stop pushing away the people who will give it to you.”
“I don’t want to see my mother.”
“Then don’t. But Cat is right here.”
I look down at the mats, my guts churning.
“I don’t think she is. I really fucked up.”
Snow closes the cabinet and locks it.
“No relationship is built without mistakes,” he says.
I cast a quick look at his stony scowl. “You think she’ll forgive me?”
“Maybe. If you learn how to say sorry and actually mean it.”
“What does that look like?”
Snow folds his arms across his substantial chest. “Only you can figure that out,” he says.
I think about that while I gather up my duffle bag and prepare to leave.
Right as I reach the door, I pause and turn back.
“Snow,” I say.
He turns around, waiting.
“With Sasha . . . how did you know you were really in love?”
Snow answers without hesitation. “I knew when I was willing to do anything for her. Give anything. Risk anything.”
Then he heads back to his office, not waiting for my response.
24
The Spy
This school year has seemed the longest yet.
I’m so tired.
I never realized what a strain all the lying would be.
The rest of the students are energized by the warming weather. For me, it has the opposite effect. Another summer rolling around—another anniversary I don’t want to mark. I never thought I’d be here three years later.
Miss Robin still hasn’t found what she’s been searching for day and night for all this time.
“If we can’t find it, maybe we should consider—”
“No,” she snaps. “We proceed with the rest of the plan either way.”
My stomach clenches. I don’t like the rest of the plan. I’ve never liked it.
She lays her hand on my arm, looking in my eyes.
“I know this is hard for you. But it’s the only way. She’s coming here next year. She’ll be alone and unprotected.”
Kingmakers: the safest place on earth, invulnerable to attack.
Unless the enemy is already inside.
Miss Robin squeezes my arm, her fingers frightfully strong.
“This is not a world made for the gentle and the just. You are a wolf, and always have been.”
I remove her hand from my arm and hold it between my own.
“I’ll do what has to be done.”
“I know you will,” she says.
For now, I have another task at hand. Much simpler than the task awaiting me come September.
I find Cat Romero plodding across campus with her arms full of books.
Cat always looks too small to carry whatever she’s carrying. I have to resist the urge to offer to take the stack out of her hands.
“Hello Cat,” I say.
“Oh, hello,” She replies, miserably.
Her face looks thin and drawn, her shoulders slumped.
Probably something to do with Dean.
Too bad—I was almost starting to root for him.
He became my unwitting ally this year, without ever knowing it.
“How are you doing?” I ask her.
“I’m fi—” she starts, and then abruptly changes her mind. “Not good,” she admits.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No,” she sighs. “Thank you, though.”
“Are you sure? I could strangle Dean in his sleep.”
Her lower lip trembles. “I’m afraid I’m a long way past when that would help me.”
“How’s Zoe doing, then?” I say, knowing that will cheer her up.
Sure enough, she gives me a wobbly smile.
“She’s so happy,” Cat says. “She sold another script—can you believe it?”
Nothing pleases Cat more than something good happening for her sister.
“I was talking to Perry Saunders at the library,” I say, casually. “She’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”
“Mm-hm,” Cat nods, glancing across the open lawn as if distracted. Maybe looking for Dean.
“Have you ever visited her in Kyiv?”
“Oh, she doesn’t live in Kyiv. Her mother doesn’t like it there, so they live in Naples and her father flies back every couple of weeks. Her mother breeds horses . . .”
“I’m surprised he’s willing to live on his own,” I chuckle. “Mafia men aren’t exactly known for their housekeeping skills.”
“He stays at the Four Seasons,” Cat says, now scanning the students exiting the dining hall. Probably looking for Dean.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” I say, ready to part ways. “Have fun in class.”
“You too,” Cat says, vaguely.
It’s to my benefit that she wasn’t entirely paying attention—Cat Romero can be a little too curious for her own good. Miss Robin already warned me about that.
She guessed almost immediately that Cat was the one who killed Rocco Prince. That was an unwelcome complication—Dr. Cross’