“Its not 1692 anymore. Witchcraft isn’t illegal.”

When he finally finds Zoe at lunchtime—dressed in an Attack on Titan Survey Corps uniform—she double takes.

“What happened to your face?” she asks, incredulous.

“Huh?” He didn’t think the Goon Squad roughed him up that badly.

Zoe makes a gesture in her own general facial area. “I seem to recall a lot more light wounds last night.”

Eli puts his own hand on his cheek before he realizes she means the injuries from his fight with the peryton, not Arthur Lacroix. “Oh. Yeah, they were gone this morning. Guess your magic potion worked, huh?”

Zoe gives him a very strange look. “Ee, you realize it’s just, like, herbs and honey, right? It’s not . . . I mean, it’s never”—another vague gesture—”before.”

“So you’re more powerful than you thought. That’s good, right?” Because if Zoe’s a witch, maybe it won’t matter Eli’s a monster.

“I guess . . .” Though Zoe looks like she can’t decide between being proud and being scared. She finally settles on resigned, sitting down on the retaining wall behind the science block. “I heard you got the third degree from Lady Lacroix this morning,” she says.

It’s as good a segue as any, so Eli takes it. He tells Zoe about Lacroix, senior, and Lacroix, junior. The latter in particular elicits a great deal of consternation and warm hands, running across his cheeks and his limbs, checking him for injuries.

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