"So it's your turn now?" I asked.
Seraphina nodded.
She'd changed out of her climbing gear into a plain white T-shirt and ripped black jeans, and her silver hair was down, still damp from washing, falling past her shoulders like a sheet of poured metal. Under the cotton, over her left shoulder, I could see the edge of a fresh bandage. Her ice-blue eyes were as steady as ever.
But she'd been different since the tower.
Not louder. Seraphina was never louder. Quieter, in a new way. At dinner she'd let her tea go cold in front of her and watched me across the table as if I were a page in a language she was only half sure she could read. When Rachel stole a dumpling off her plate, she didn't even notice. Rachel had been so disappointed she'd given it back.
"The four of us played a game to decide the order," she said, without the faintest trace of shame, and stepped inside.
"What game?"
"That's confidential."
"Who won?"
