38 • trust

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we all have two lives. the second one starts when we realise we only have one
tom hiddleston

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NO more secrets. That's the promise Uncle Ted and I made to each other just weeks ago. And yet here I am, standing in front of him, luggage in my hand, guilt in my eyes, doing the very thing. I can't look him in the eye. I feel like a hypocrite.

"Got everything?" Aunt Victoria says. "I packed a couple snacks for all of you, so you don't get hungry there. If you're anything like Emma, you guys must have a high metabolism too. She always used to eat when she was younger."

She's babbling, trying to distract herself from the elephant in the room. She knows something is wrong too. And even without making eye contact, I can feel her disappointment.

"Thanks, Vic," Cass gushes, rummaging through the small lunch-bag. "Emma is so lucky to have an aunt like you."

"Oh stop, you flatter me." Aunt Victoria receives the comment with a bashful smile when Cole and I add on our praises.

I wonder how Cass does it: act so cool and normal, holding all those secrets inside of her. Perhaps it was from practice — after all she'd kept her vision about yesterday's incident to herself for who knows how long. Or maybe it comes with having Morgana as a mother. Cass's eyes flicker to mine. She's giving me a look, as if she knows what I'm thinking.

'Don't spill it,' it seems to say.

I won't. I won't say anything, even if the thought of leaving my aunt and uncle here with the Masters' terrifies me. And even if I disagreed, Cass was right: the less they are involved, the safer they'll be.

We hope.

We're now at that border. The place where the two agents accompanying us step ahead, ready to remind my relatives that they can't pass further. This is the point Aunt Victoria usually gets emotional, but today it seems to be the both of them.

"Goodbye," I say, initiating a hug. "I'll miss you guys."

"We'll miss you too, Em," Aunt Victoria says, squeezing me tightly. "You don't understand how proud I am of you."

She's talking like this is the last time we'll see each other, and I realise I am too.

"And be safe, would you?" Uncle Ted adds, his soon-to-be signature worry lines making an appearance on his forehead.

A broad smile is plastered on my face as I respond, "When am I not?"

He rolls his eyes, wrapping me in a hug of his own. "I mean it. Call us when you get there so we know you three arrived safely."

I nod. Before we break apart, I murmur, "You two should stay safe too." This is my chance. This is my last opportunity to give them a hint of a warning. Looking into his eyes, in the quietest, yet firmest voice I can muster I say, "Stay away from the Masters'."

Then we're drowned in inaudible overhead announcements broadcasting flight times and we're ushered through the gate to our jet, leaving no time for more than a final wave goodbye.

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