Chapter Twenty-One
Zev and Alistair were still on the floor, half-under the quilt she’d pulled off the bed. Face to face, their clothes littering the shadows around the room.
“It’s all true,” Zev whispered, staring into the middle distance, his arms still around her. “And they’ve been keeping tabs on you this whole time. That’s why he had the journal . . .”
“Yeah . . .” Alistair answered, oblivious to what he was saying. She was soaking in the details of his face in the dim light of the window.
“You think they’re telling the truth?” Zev asked.
“About magic? I saw it—”
“About the Silver? About being reformed or whatever.”
“Oh. I don’t know. They didn’t seem like the Silver in The Monarch Papers, but . . . whatever path they made . . . whatever test they had for me, I failed it, so it
