“Uh, I’ll take another one. Thanks,” I said, plucking a couple of tissues from the box and wiping my face again.

“So, where are you not going?” He sat down beside me on the bench. His shoulder brushed mine and I leaned into him.

“I’m just reminding myself not to let the crazy stuff that goes on around here make me crazy—or at least crazier.”

“You’re not crazy, Z. You’re going through some hard things, but you’re gonna be fine,” he said.

“I hope you’re right,” I muttered and then another, even more depressing thought struck me. “Um, did you tell the rest of the guys not to treat me all weird because of my mom?”

“I didn’t have to tell them. They’re your friends, Z. They’re gonna treat you like they care about you, not weirdly,” Stark said.

“I know, I know I just…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know how to sift through and put into words the pain and guilt and terrible alone feeling not having a mom had left with me.

“Hey.” Stark stopped and looked down at me. “You’re not alone.”

“Are you listening to my thoughts? You know I don’t like it when—”

He took my shoulders in his hands and gave me a little shake. “It doesn’t take an Oath Bound Warrior’s link to know you’re feeling all by yourself. I don’t know any other kid whose mom is dead, do you?”

“No. Just me.” I bit my lip to keep from bawling. Again.

“See, it’s not tough to figure you out.” He kissed me then. Not with a hot, open mouth, I-want-in-your-panties kiss. Stark’s kiss was soft and sweet and reassuring. When his lips left mine he smiled into my eyes. “But, like I said before, you’re gonna come through all of this just fine and not crazy because you’re smart and strong and beautiful and basically covered with awesomesauce.”

I giggled unexpectedly. “Awesomesauce? Did you seriously just say that?”

“Hell yes I just said it! You are awesome, Z.”

“But awesomesauce?” I giggled again, and felt my stomach begin to unclench. “That’s the dorkiest thing I think I’ve ever heard you say.”

He clutched his chest like I’d just stabbed him. “Z, that hurts. I was trying to be romantic.”

“Well, at least you tried,” I said. “Please tell me you didn’t make that word up all by yourself.”

“Nah.” He gave me his cute, cocky grin. “I heard a bunch of third former girls say I was covered with it when they were watching me shoot my arrows in the arena last hour.”

“Reallly?” I raised a brow and gave him the stank eye. “Third former girls?”

The cocky part of his grin faded. “I meant to say unattractive third former girls.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you meant to say.”

His eyes sparkled. “Jealous?”

I snorted and lied. “No!”

“You don’t have to be jealous. Ever. Because you’re not just covered with awesomesauce. You’re what awesomesauce is made of.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Promise?”

“Yep.”

I leaned against him. “Okay, I believe you, dork.” I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me. “Can we go home now?”

“Absolutely. Your short yellow limo is loaded and waiting for you.” He stood up and pulled me to my feet. Hand in hand we walked toward the parking lot. I snuck a sideways glance at him. He looked pleased with himself (and totally hot). Obviously his dorky word game had been part of his plot to pull me out of the pit of depression I’d felt myself falling into.

Stark would have felt it, too, and not because he was “listening” inappropriately to my thoughts—because he was my Guardian and my Warrior and much, much more.

I squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

He glanced at me, smiled, then lifted my hand to his lips. “No problem. Just wait ’til you hear the word I’m thinking up to describe your boobs. This time it’ll be totally made up. I don’t need the help of any unattractive third formers for this.”

“No. Just no.”

“But you might need more cheering up.”

“Nope. I’m a-okay. Boob talk is so not necessary.”

“Well, remember that I’m here if you need me,” he said, grinning again. “Ready, willing, and able.”

“That’s a comfort. Thanks.”

“All part of my Guardian job description,” he said.

I lifted both of my brows this time. “Did you actually get a job description?”

“Kinda. Seoras said, ‘Take care o’ yur queen or I’ll be finishin’ the wee scratchin’ I started on yu,’” he said, sounding freakishly like the ancient Scottish Guardian.

“Wee?” I shuddered, remembering the bloody knife wounds that had been slashed all across his chest. How could I ever forget? Even if they weren’t still fresh pink scars, despite the healing power of my elements and my blood. “Wee is definitely not how I’d describe them.”

“Ach, well, lassie. It wasna much more than pussy scratches.”

I felt my eyes go wide, and then I punched him on his arm. “Pussy!”

He rubbed his arm, and in his regular voice said, “Z, it means cat in Scotland. Really.”

“You.” I scowled at him. “Are a guy.”

For some goofy reason that made him laugh, and he put his arms around me, enfolding me in a giant hug. “Yeah, I’m a guy. Your guy. And I want you to remember that beyond all this stuff,” he paused, pulled back far enough so he could gesture at the House of Night and the short bus that waited a little way from where we were now standing, “and my Warrior stuff, and even my Guardian stuff, I love you, Zoey Redbird. And I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

I stepped back into his arms and breathed a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“There she is!” I heard Kramisha’s voice shouting and I sighed, pretty sure I was the “she” she was talking about. I looked up and, sure enough, Kramisha was standing in front of the loaded short bus with Stevie Rae, Aphrodite, Damien, the Twins, Erik, and a red fledgling I didn’t recognize. Keeping Stark’s hand in mine I walked the rest of the way to the bus.

“I’m sorry ’bout your momma. That’s bad,” Kramisha said in greeting.

“Um, th-thanks,” I stuttered, and had just started thinking that I was going to have to come up with a non-awkward way to respond to people who were telling me they were sorry my mom was dead when Kramisha continued with, “Z, I know it ain’t good timin’, but we got us a problem.”

I stifled another sigh. “We, as in me, or we as in you?”

“We think this problem might spill over onto all of us,” Stevie Rae said.

“Great,” I said.

“Zoey, this is Shaylin.” Erik introduced me to the unfamiliar girl, who was studying me like she wished she had me under a microscope. Jeesh, it was a pain to meet new kids.

“Hi, Shaylin,” I said, trying to sound normal while I ignored her stare.

“Purple,” she said.

“I thought Erik said your name was Shaylin,” I said, even though I wanted to shriek Yes! It’s me! The one with the weird tattoos!

“My name is Shaylin.” She gave me a really warm, really nice smile. “You’re purple.”

“She’s not Purple, she’s Zoey,” Stark said, sounding as confused as I felt.

“You’re also flecks of silver.” Shaylin finished staring at me and then turned her gaze to him. “You’re red and gold and a little black. Huh. That’s weird.”

“Okay, I’m not—”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Aphrodite interrupted, pointing at Shaylin. “This new kid’s name is Shaylin, and she’s not calling you colors, she’s seeing your colors.”

“My colors? I don’t have a clue what that means,” I said, frowning at Aphrodite and then giving Shaylin a big question mark look.

“I don’t really know what it means, either,” Shaylin said. “It just happened to me, right after I was Marked.”

“I think Shaylin has been gifted with something called True Sight,” Damien said. “It’s rare. I think there’s something about it in the Advanced Fledgling Handbook, but I only peeked at one of those.” He looked embarrassed and apologetic. “I didn’t really study it.”