SIMON
"This is mine," Baz snarls, holding the handkerchief in my face. He's right. It is. I mean, I know it is. I didn't think this through. I just wanted… I don't know. I wanted to help. He looked so sad, so unlike himself. I've spent weeks wanting Baz back but now he's here, and he's not himself. I want to fix him, help him be who he was before. And now he's snarling properly and slamming the door on his way out of the room, so, mission accomplished, I guess.
BAZ
I'm hardly out the door before the pain in my leg flairs, reminding me it's pointless to even attempt the stairs again tonight. I barely made it up here after hunting in the first place. I'm not going anywhere tonight. I sink down with my back against the wall where the tower curves just before the stairs, and cast karma chameleon to camouflage myself. I use all five karmas to be absolutely sure Snow won't be able see me if he follows me into the hall. Not that I expect him to come after me. Although apparently he has been searching for me. If that dryad is to be trusted.
SIMON
I'm left standing in our room. Alone. It's like the past two months all over again. I've been waiting all day for a confrontation with Baz, waiting to see him up close—to have him back where I can keep an eye on him. And now it's clear how little power I actually have, how none of this is under my control. Even my magic's beginning to seep out of me. Where could Baz have gone? Back to wherever he spent the evening, I suppose—the catacombs, or maybe the Woods. Probably the woods; he had more of a smell of fresh air about him than dust and decay. Either way it'll be hours before I know for sure where he is again.
Or not.
I don't have to stay here waiting for him.
BAZ
I hear door to our room open with a crash and sure enough, there's Snow. Will he never give up? He runs out, his freshly washed hair sending droplets of water flying through the air as he snaps his head to the left and then the right—my direction. It seems like he's looking at me, but he isn't. I know I'm well camouflaged by my spell.
He walks towards me, which is also the towards the stairs, and stops just between the curve of the wall where I'm leaning and the top step. I could do it for real this time, reach out and give him a little shove—he wouldn't even see it coming. But I don't dare. Even if I actually wanted to hurt him, which I don't, I can't risk it. This spell backfires too easily. It's the karma. If you want to make yourself blend into the background for a good cause, karma helps you succeed on your mission and keeps you concealed. If you use it for evil—say, for pushing your roommate down the stairs unprovoked—bright, coloured, lights appear and alert everyone to your location. They tend to illuminate you in shades of red, gold, and green.
Snow pauses, eyes pointed in my direction. It's uncanny. Then he scrunches his eyebrows, turns, and trots down the stairs, no doubt headed to the catacombs for some fruitless stalking.
Once the sound of his footsteps has faded I allow myself to relax just a bit. It really seemed as though he could see me for a moment. He was looking right at me. But he kept going without a splutter of indignation or a fist to the head, so I know my cover held.
The floor is uncomfortable, but I'm better off here than back in the room for Snow to find when he returns. He's clearly spoiling for a fight. I bend my knees up so I can rest my arms on them to make a pillow for my head. I must doze off like this because suddenly there are footsteps on the stairs again and Snow is back, holding a tray carefully in both hands. He stops in front of me. Then he sets his tray down on the floor and slides down the wall until he's sitting right next to me. On the tray there's a pot of tea and one cup, as well as a plate holding a single apple and a scone.
I'm more confident than ever that my spell is holding. He'd never have sat this close if he could see me. But why is he here at all? Instead of wandering round the grounds searching for me is he planning to have a snack here while he waits? Not a bad plan, actually, for someone as perpetually famished as Snow.
I hold my breathe and wait for him to dig in, but he doesn't. Instead he says "Here," and nudges the tray towards me with his foot.