Chapter 72

• Jace spent the next few hours directing the repairs and kneeling to soothe the younger students who had been shaken by the night. He looked like he belonged to the chaos—dangerous, purposeful—and yet the kids clung to him as if he were the only safe thing left. I realized, with a dull throb of annoyance, that I’d left the house without a proper shower. Of course.
• “You left your thought half-hatched, Jace. How did Dad keep all of this from tearing him apart?” I asked.
• He tipped an invisible hat toward a small boy polishing a dented crate. “He learned to be louder than the storm. And quieter when it mattered.”