Cassian remained exactly where he was, his hand still suspended in the empty air where he'd instinctively reached out for the boy. The scent of crushed jasmine and wet earth lingered, but the warmth—the steady, grounding heat of the boy—was gone.
The ivy burned now.
It was not violent. That was the troubling part. It coiled slowly through his veins, warm and alert, as if listening for something that was no longer there.
Cassian exhaled through his nose and flexed his hands.
He had dismissed Elias early. Mina had forced the interruption, yes, but Cassian had allowed it.
He could have overridden her anytime. He could have summoned guards. He could have used his magic on her, it would have been very effective.
He had not.
The Ivy brightened faintly at the thought, curling tighter around his ribs.
Cassian's jaw clenched.
He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the silver hairpin.
The metal was cool. Grounding.
A foolish object. Decorative. Meaningless.
