“Yeah. Come in.”
He steps inside, and I take in the sight of him—hoodie unzipped, sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark hair still damp from the shower. There’s something careful in the way he moves, like he’s giving me space to change my mind about letting him stay.
He doesn’t sit at first. Just studies me the way he always does, like he’s trying to read a language he almost knows but doesn’t speak out loud.
“Can’t decide what to pack?” he asks, nodding toward the blanket.
“Something like that.” I smooth my thumb over the stitching, focusing on the texture instead of the knot in my chest. “It feels too real. Like once I put it in a bag, I’m admitting…”
“That you’re trusting us,” he finishes.
I look up. “I already trust you.”
The truth sits lower in my chest, harder to name.
“It’s not that,” I say softly. “It’s admitting this might actually matter. That it’s real.”
I smooth the blanket in my lap, not looking at him.
“And if we do this—if we really go—”
I glance at him, and the flicker of hope he’s trying to hide nearly undoes me.
“It means everything changes.”
I swallow.
“For all of us.”
He moves closer, settling on the edge of the bed. Not close enough to crowd me, but near enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“Can I ask you something?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“Always.”
I take a breath, steeling myself. “Earlier… when Thane showed up. When he spoke…”
I trail off, but Gray’s already watching me closer. His expression shifts, becomes more alert. I pull the blanket higher on my lap, trying to find the courage for what I need to say.
“I recognized his voice. Not just ‘I’ve heard this before’—Iknewit. I felt it in my chest. Like he was there, the night of the crown. Inside the light. Inside me.”
My voice drops to barely a whisper. “He’s the one who called me Queen of the Mist. I’m sure of it.”
The silence stretches between us. Gray doesn’t speak right away, but something shifts behind his eyes. Not surprise—something closer to confirmation.
“You haven’t told the others,” he says finally.
“No. I don’t even know if it means anything.” I shake my head, frustration bleeding into my voice. “But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s been in this longer than he’s admitting. That he’s not just some Council representative who showed up because of the surge.”
“It means something,” Gray says, and there’s certainty in his voice. “You feel like he was in that moment—like he helped create it?”
I nod, the admission feeling like stepping off a cliff. “I haven’t even told them what the voice said. I didn’t want it to be real.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he’s been watching. Planning. And I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.” The mist coils tighter near my feet, protective and tense. “I don’t want him in my head. I don’t want him in that memory.”
Gray leans forward, his voice low and steady. “If he was in that moment—if he called you queen—then maybe he wasn’t just witnessing your awakening. Maybe he’s part of what caused it.”
