Runebinder. Alex Kahler R.

      “I do what I want,” Kevin says. He shoves his own papers sloppily into his bag. “It’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

      Tenn keeps his head turned. Damn it, now he’s blushing. But if Kevin notices, he doesn’t say anything as he pulls on his coat.

      They head toward the on-campus café. Tenn glances at Kevin, then opens to Water. It pulls at him, but he’s getting the hang of it. After two months of sitting by the lake in class and trying to manipulate the waves, even this little bit of magic feels like a victory. He focuses, and arcs the rain around them.

      Kevin smiles and pats him on the shoulder. Warmth floods through Tenn’s chest.

      “See?” Kevin says. “A little magic never hurt anybody.”

      Tenn stumbled as Water sloshed off. Jarrett’s hands were there, steadying him, keeping him balanced. But his hands couldn’t force away the memory, the roar of Water in Tenn’s ears, the after-cries of the thousands of other memories that bubbled alongside that one. He’d hoped that leaving the field and the bloodshed would help, but...

      When will it stop?

      “What was that?” Jarrett asked.

      Tenn couldn’t answer at first; he studied Jarrett’s face, compared it to the boy he barely remembered. Three years of fighting and magic had definitely taken their toll—this new incarnation was taller, more muscled, his skin paled by magic and scarred by bloodshed.

      “Water,” he finally said. “Sometimes it... Sometimes it dredges up memories.”

      Jarrett nodded slowly, studying him, his hands still steadying Tenn’s arms.

      “Are you okay?”

      Dozens had asked Tenn that over the last few years, normally during or after battle. Never had he actually felt like the other person wanted an honest answer.

      “I don’t know anymore,” Tenn replied.

      A Hunter walked past them, saluting Jarrett. Jarrett just nodded. His hands didn’t leave Tenn. The fact that he wasn’t hiding this closeness sent another wash of heat through Tenn.

      “How did you know it was me?” Tenn asked.

      Water and war had changed him, too. He’d watched the transformation in the mirror over the last few years—the new scars, the dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness that never seemed to fade no matter how much he rested or ate. He didn’t think he looked anything like the boy he once was. He sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

      “You stood out back then,” he said, squeezing Tenn’s shoulders. “And you stand out now.” He actually reached up and brushed the side of Tenn’s face, tracing a scar with the back of his fingers. Tenn nearly collapsed at the softness of that touch. “It takes more than a few scars to hide that.”

      Jarrett’s seriousness was replaced with a grin.

      “Besides, you’re just as gloomy as you always were.” He took a half step back. “Who’d have thought we’d meet again out here, at the end of the world?”

      Tenn shook his head. It was still swimming. His skin burned and tingled from Jarrett’s touch, and he wanted nothing more than to close the space between them, if only to be held, if only to connect to a part of his past that wasn’t covered in blood. A part of his past that suddenly, like a flare of light in the dark, felt like it could beckon toward a different future.