Damp and clean, a towel wrapped around his waist, Jamal walked into his room. Nev was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a wooden cup on the mattress in front of him, tipping back and forth. It took Jamal a moment to realize that the cup was hovering a couple of inches above the bed as it wobbled.

Nev looked up, an expression of panic of his face, and the cup dropped to the bed.

“You can do magic,” Jamal said.

Nev was silent, hands clenched.

“It’s cool. Not many have the talent.” Jamal pulled a lightweight thawb from the chest at the foot of his bed.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Nev said.

“Okay.” Jamal dropped his towel and slid the robe over his head. “But why? You think people will beg you to do things for them?”

“I’m not supposed to be capable of magic, but I used it to break the cords that bound me to the post when Kustaa was preparing to sacrifice me. If I’m sent back, he will kill me. Why am I even worrying about why? He will kill me anyway. But it will be worse because I used it against him. I attacked him, he who created me.”

Jamal sat down on the bed beside Nev. “Bhati mentioned that you might be eligible for immigration status. I don’t know what that entails exactly, but try not to panic. If the Captain didn’t bundle you up and ship you back immediately, there’s hope.” He cupped his hand under Nev’s chin and rubbed his thumb along Nev’s jaw.

Nev raised his eyes to meet Jamal’s. His expression was a mix of sorrow and apprehension. He didn’t pull away from Jamal’s touch.

Jamal leaned in a little, not sure if Nev would object. “Can I kiss you?”