The relief that washes over me is so overwhelming I slouch. Then straighten, realizing how obvious that looks. “Wait, did you just make a joke?” I didn’t think Murphy capable of jokes.
He ignores that. “I’m the first to find out about this, aren’t I?”
I start shaking my head.
“Otherwise, you’d be better at lying.”
“Why do you think I’m lying?” I try for light exasperation. Still casual, still calm.
“For one, I know my own power and more importantly my own limitations. Two—” He extends his right arm, turning it like he can’t believe it’s healed. Half a month, I note. Probably less in reality. Which means his recovery is borderline unprecedented. “I believe I have you to thank for this.”
I stiffen like stone. He insinuated the same thing this morning at breakfast, which means I have to deny having a hand in his healing along with what happened today. Damn it, I was so caught up in Bex I didn’t account for the other evidence.
“That wasn’t me,” I stutter in a mush of syllables.
He steps closer. “You’re saying you didn’t give me silver?”
“I didn’t.” It’s not a lie.
He sighs, frustration finally setting in. This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go. James Murphy was never supposed to realize I was better than him. “I’d assumed you had given me silver you had permission to carry as a spotter.”
Damn it. I could have said that. Why didn’t I say that?!
“Fine then. Keep lying.” Another step closer. “But as much as you want me to, I won’t forget what happened today. Soon enough I’ll see you craft again.”
I bring my hands up in between us. I’ve had all day to think and the main element of my strategy relies on this—I can’t let Murphy test me again. “If you cuff us together, I’ll scream. I’ll—”
I stop, seeing James’s face. He’s gone red.
I replay my words and they snag on what I just implied. Or not even implied. What I just said with a straight face. “I didn’t mean it like that.” My voice sounds like it’s been murdered, and the ghost of embarrassment is speaking for me, hoarse and quiet.
Our seclusion suddenly dawns on me. We’re in my room, alone. The door closed.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I won’t cuff you to me.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Again.”
Okay, good, because today if he’d waited me out, I don’t know what I would have done.
“I’m sorry I tried to test you like that,” he adds.
“But you still think I’m a silver-crafter?”
He refocuses on me, his dark eyes intense. “I know you’re a silver-crafter.” He anticipates my contradiction. I almost try for it again, but I can’t keep at this. Because I had James Murphy all wrong. There’s no manipulating his ego or his misogyny, how humiliating it is to have a female copper-crafter do something he couldn’t. His tone doesn’t carry insecurity or envy. He’s somehow oddly humbleandconfident? Completely unbearable and useless to me.
Therefore, I need to refocus on my last resort, or what I’ve been calling Plan B in my head for the past five hours—make him agree to keep my secret.
I take a breath, relax my stance. “Fine. What do I need to do for you to keep this quiet?”
“So, you’re admitting it?” he asks. One side of his mouth quirks up.
“Just answer the question.”
“I want to know why. Tell me why this is a secret and I’ll keep quiet.”
I choke on a laugh. “You expect me to believe that’sallyou want?”
He shuffles in front of me and I prepare myself. But here’s the thing. I’ve driven a trench into my carpet with my pacing trying to guess what James Murphy could want in exchange for his silence. All I mustered was maybe forcing me to withdraw my application from the Revers scholarship. I stand firm in front of him. I can’t give up that dream.
“It bothers me,” he finally says. “No one would hide this. Especially the Farren I knew at the beginning of high school.” He pauses as something seems to click into place. “You became a silver-crafter beginning of year eleven, didn’t you?”