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about me to be a mere stranger. Ooh, I needed Logan to myself for just a minute or two.
    “Oh, you’ve done more than enough,” I said through clenched teeth. “No apologies needed.”
    “Very well, Caspia,” he exhaled. Ice and green leaves. Effervescence and wind. Logan didn’t move. Why wasn’t anyone else reacting as I was? Couldn’t anyone else sense his strangeness? An automatic, primal protectiveness flared deep within as Logan stood, an unwitting barrier between this stranger and myself. I prowled closer, my stomach against my brother’s back, my injured arm resting on his shoulder. I hid my exposed side against his bulky dark sweatshirt. Eyes the color of a secluded spring-fed pool watched Logan and I steadily. “The burns are superficial,” the interloper said calmly. “The herbalist treated them well. Your wrist is most likely sprained, but you might want to get it x-rayed if it doesn’t improve after a couple of days. Keep it elevated.” I snorted.
    “That means a sling,” Logan lectured. I rolled my eyes. A sling. Yeah, right. But then the rest of the conversation penetrated.
    “A couple of days?” I repeated. “How am I supposed to make left-handed lattes?” I felt my thoughts skitter sideways, away from the strangeness in front of me, latching on to the mundane reality of things like bills and food. “I have to work,” I murmured, clinging more tightly to Logan. “And what about school? I can’t draw left handed, and something tells me Dr. Christian won’t care.”
    “Relax. I called Markov. The twins both said they’d cover for you,” my brother told me. He leaned backwards. He wanted to shield me, and for just a moment, I was tired enough to let him. “Everybody’s been concerned and supportive, Cas. Your job’s not going anywhere. When Amberlyn got the call, we ran across the square. Mrs. Alice had something for your burn, and he was evaluating your wrist. Between the two of them, they got it salved, splinted, and wrapped. He carried you all the way here. I’m not strong enough anymore; believe me, I wish…”
    “Shh,” I cut him off softly. His weight against me was slight, so slight. I thought of him running in the cold wind, my brother who had to rest midway up the stairs to our apartment. I imagined him seeing me, motionless on the ground, trying unsuccessfully to lift me, seeing what hell that must have been. Blue-green eyes glowed steadily at me from the dark of my room, seeing into me; forcing me, in turn, to see. Not strong enough. The winter will take him, a tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind. “No,” I whispered to the stranger across the room. “No, Logan, you’re fine.” Twin blue-green glowing orbs stared back at me, unblinking and unconvinced.
    “Of course I’m fine,” Logan agreed, turning to pull me close in a tight hug. He was more sweatshirt than muscle, but he put his entire body into the hug. I leaned into him gratefully. “Everything’s fine, Caspia,” he murmured, petting my hair like he’d done since we were kids. “You should get some rest.”
    “I have to talk to you," I murmured into his chest. “Alone,” I added sharply.
    “I have to talk to Amberlyn, and help her get her stuff together,” Logan promised, easing back with a smile. “But I’m not going anywhere. I live here, remember?”
    “I would like to speak with you as well, Caspia Chastain,” said the voice like smoke and honey. “Alone.”
    Inwardly, I groaned. Of course he would. “I don’t even know your name,” I said, flinging up the first protest I could think of.
    Amberlyn laughed, a quick and light melodious trill. “Ethan told you his name four or five times already, Caspia. You really must have hit your head hard.”
    “Perhaps I’d better look at it again,” the unsettling man allegedly named Ethan said with a frown. Was there anything he hadn’t thought of? I stepped backward in alarm, looking wildly at my brother. Logan sighed.
    “I’d