“You’ve been quiet. What’s wrong?”
Sloe looked up from the game board but didn’t meet Raven’s eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered.
Raven’s eyelids fluttered. She pressed her elbows forward, onto the table, and cradled her chin in her hands. “Somehow I doubt that because I’m winning.” Her smile held a touch of sadness.
Sloe furrowed a brow at the black and white board covered in flattened black and white stones. “I guess I’m a bit off today.”
He studied the board closely. After flipping two stones and moving one diagonally across three spaces, he cracked a smile.
“See,” said Sloe, meeting her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
She tilted her head and regarded him suspiciously. “Okay, then, if you weren’t thinking about the game earlier, what were you thinking about?”
“What do you mean?”
“When I asked you what was wrong, it seemed you finally focused on the game. And to do that, you had to stop thinking about something else.” She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing. “What was it?”
He let out a slow, exaggerated breath and looked at her helplessly.
“Oooohhhh. It’s about the men who want the baglamas, isn’t it? What’s happening with that?”
“It’s been taken care of,” he said.
Her eyes grew wide. “You mean they have it? Now?”
“But how?” she sputtered. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s a long story, and now that it’s dealt with I just want to put it in the past—to forget about it. And to be glad you’re safe.”
A rosy glow touched Raven’s cheeks. She smiled at him. Her smile faded when he looked away instead of returning the smile with one of his own.
She chewed on the insides of her cheeks. “Are you feeling bad about taking something that didn’t belong to you and giving it to someone else?”
Sloe’s face paled. “That’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
He tilted the board, letting the stones slide to the table’s edge, where he caught them in a leather pouch. After gathering the remaining stones and adding them to the bag, he slowly folded the game board.
“Sloe?” Raven said more emphatically. “What’s the other part? What else is going on?”
He stood from the table and looked around before tilting his head toward hers. In a low voice he said, “The Clock Tower’s in danger, and it’s all my fault.”
Every last hint of rosy pink drained from Raven’s face. “Does this have anything to do with the cloaked men?”
He nodded. “The hooded man showed up at the Clock Tower. Instead of using a one-way exit portal, he left by walking into the portal backwards—a portal I’d never seen before.”
Raven let out a small gasp. “Where did the portal come from?”
“I don’t know, but do you remember the cloaked men talking about destroying portals?”
“What if they can build them, too?”
“My Dad locked the portal as well as he could, but now that the hooded man has found the Clock Tower, what’s to stop him from creating another one? As the keeper of the Clock Tower, no one is supposed to be able to enter without my father’s permission, and I know he hadn’t given access to the hooded man.”
Raven steadied herself by placing a hand on the table. “This isn’t your fault, Sloe. It’s mine. We need to figure a way to fix this. I have to help you.”
Sloe shook his head.
Light flickered in Raven’s eyes. “I disagree, but if you don’t think I can help, then what about the person who owns the baglamas—the person you took it from, the Healer’s granddaughter? Can’t you explain to her what happened? If they’re so talented and powerful, maybe they can help find a way out of this.”
“No,” he said, his voice small. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Raven’s face colored, her cheeks pinched. “If you hadn’t found the baglamas someone else would have found it for them. Maybe the cloaked men would have taken it from her directly. Either way, it would still be Silvie Hall’s problem, we just wouldn’t have known about it.”
Sloe shook his head. “Don’t you get it? That would have given her more time. We sped up the process and put her in danger sooner.”
“If you feel so bad about taking the baglamas, then why don’t you help her get it back?” She challenged him with a pout.
His lips moved, but all that escaped was wordless sputtering.