Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)(82)

I let the towel drop around my neck. “Do you not want to sleep in the bed?”

He shakes his head. “No. I … I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I sigh. “You’ve got to stop questioning me. I’m holding on by a thread.”

He looks down. “Sorry.”

That came out wrong. I throw the towel into the bathroom and climb onto the bed beside him. “Hey, no … I’m sorry.”

Baz looks up at me, pushing his damp hair back behind his ears. “Simon, are you sure you want me here?”

“Christ, I just told you not to question me.”

“Yeah, I know, but you also told me you’re holding on by a thread. I don’t want to put you in that position.”

“I’m always holding on by a thread! I thought the important thing was that I’m holding on!”

“Right.” He rubs his face. “Right. It is. I’m sorry. I wish I were more confident. I’m not really built for this.”

I breathe out a laugh.

He scowls at me. “What?”

“How can you be insecure, Baz? You’re the most arrogant person I’ve ever met.”

“They run on different tracks.”

I laugh again.

“I’m going to sleep in your bed,” he says, like it’s a legal declaration.

“All right.”

“Until you tell me you don’t want me to.”

“Or until you don’t want to,” I say.

“That might be never, Snow.”

“All right.”

Baz looks down, smiling with one side of his mouth, his eyelashes stark against his cheeks.

I get under the sheets he magicked up for me—they’re already going threadbare, I suppose I’ll need to buy real ones soon—and lie on my side.

Baz climbs in, too, and lies down facing me. After a second, he’s got my tail in hand, and he’s twisting it through his fingers. “So we’re going to wait for the next revival meeting?”

“Seems like it,” I say. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I think that’s what Smith-Richards wants—for you to come to another of his meetings.”

“You can’t still think he’s up to something nefarious…”

Baz lifts his head. “What’s the alternative? That’s he’s actually the Greatest Mage?”

“If he’s giving people magic, that’s pretty great.”

“He isn’t giving it to them. They were already magicians.”

“Baz, we watched him cast the spell.”

He drops his head back on the pillow and tugs on my tail. “We should dig up what we can on his family … I’ll bet he isn’t even an orphan.”

I hook an arm around Baz’s waist. He’s solid. I like it. “Why would anyone lie about being an orphan?”

“For sympathy,” Baz says, scooting closer to me, “and because orphans are always marked by destiny, aren’t they? They’re never just some poor kid. They’re always Luke Skywalker. Or Moses.”

“Hey…” I squeeze him. “I’m an orphan.”

“You’re only proving my point, Snow. I’ll bet you were born during an eclipse, too, but nobody bothered to write it down.”

“Orphans aren’t magickal,” I say. “We’re unfortunate.”

“I’ve spent my half my life saying so,” he sighs, “but the world didn’t listen.” He lowers an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know why you of all people would trust this guy, Simon.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t.”

He hums, his eyebrow still low. “Let’s give Lady Salisbury an update.”

“You think she’ll agree with you,” I say.

“I think we could use another opinion, and Penelope is still narked at you.”

I shrug and sneak my free hand under Baz’s neck. It isn’t really sneaking— he lifts his head up for me, smiles like he might be blushing, and settles his head back down on my arm.

“I don’t mind,” I say. “I like Lady Ruth. I think she’ll be happy if we find out that Smith-Richards actually helped her son.”

“I think she’ll be happy to find out Smith-Richards didn’t bury her son in a shallow grave.”

“Oh come on—you can’t think that’s a possibility?”

“Can’t I? He gives me a bad vibe. His teeth are too white. And he’s too earnest.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve said all of that about me.”

“That’s just it.” Baz pokes my chest with the end of my tail. “He’s stealing your whole thing. ”

“He’s older than I am, so it was his thing first. Maybe I’m the one who stole it. Maybe it was meant to be him all along.”

Baz thumps his head against my biceps. “Are we going to argue about Smith Smith-Richards every night in bed?”

I grin. Suddenly I’m smiling so big I can hardly see.

“What are you laughing at, Snow?”

I’m not laughing. I shrug. I squeeze him. He’s solid. I like it.