And she kissed me.
Not the wild rush of last night. This kiss was slow, trembling, a question asked in the language of lips and breath. Her fingers brushed the edge of my jaw, tentative at first, before threading into my hair. I grasped her waist gently, afraid she might vanish if Ididn’t hold onto her. The world fell away. There was nothing but the taste of her and the quiet hum of the tether. When we parted, she gave me a sleepy, satisfied smile that nearly knocked me to my knees.
“Goodnight, Mav,” she murmured.
I watched her walk away until she reached her bedroll and curled beneath her blanket. Then I did the most dangerous thing I’d ever done.
I let myself believe that maybe she’d meant every word.
Four days.
That’s all we had left.
Four more nights. Four more mornings. Four more chances to hear her laugh, to watch her braid her hair, to tease her until she rolled her eyes at me. Four more days before she slipped into another century of silence.
I told myself not to think of it like a countdown. Told myself we’d find a way—I’dfind a way—to undo this, to shatter whatever ancient decree had bound her fate to servitude and sleep. But the number wouldn’t leave me. It drummed beneath my ribs in an unrelenting beat.
Four.
Four.
Four.
My gaze locked on the sky above, where stars scattered themselves like freckles across a field of ink. Perhaps they might blink back the answer I needed.
It’s not love.
It can’t be.
You don’t fall in love that fast, at least that’s what I kept telling myself, but the words sounded unconvincing, even in myown mind. Because love hadn’t struck like lightning. It hadn’t roared or burned. It crept up slowly, quietly.
It was the sound of my name in her mouth. The curve of her smile when she tried not to show it. The silence between us that somehow said more than words could hold. It was all too much, too fast. And yet, Saints help me—if I lost her, I didn’t know how I’d survive it. Not only the silence she’d leave behind, but the absence of her.
Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, sleep pulled me under, still wrapped in the thought of her and hearing the relentless tick of time.
Sunlight spilled across the floor of a crooked, charming kitchen. I smelled flour, rosemary, and something sweet baking in the oven. A breeze stirred the lace curtains framing the open window. Light danced across the floor in a quiet game. Quinn stood by the table, brushing flour from her apron with the back of one wrist, a streak still smudged along her cheek. She was laughing at something I didn’t hear but knew I’d said. Her hair was pinned up haphazardly, a few dark curls slipping free around her ears. I watched her move through the kitchen like it belonged to her. Maybe it did. Did it belong to us?
A shift.
We were in a garden.
Dusk-blue blossoms curled along trellises, their vines stretching toward the stars. A path wound through beds of unfamiliar blooms, things I didn’t have names for—but Quinn did. She whispered them, her fingertips brushing petals and leaves as if she were greeting old friends.
I knelt in the dirt beside her, hands muddy to the wrists. Shepassed me a trowel. I could sense the rhythm of it—this quiet, rooted life.
Another shift.
I woke to find her curled beside me in bed. Early light kissed the slope of her shoulder. I reached out and brushed my thumb beneath her eye, tracing the curve of her cheek. Somewhere outside, a bell chimed. Beyond the walls, children’s laughter rang. I didn’t know if they were ours, but it didn’t matter. The sound felt like home. She felt like home.
Scenes bled together like watercolors running across a canvas. The sun caught in her hair. Rain tapping against a roof. A book on a nightstand, half-filled with stories we hadn’t finished. Two sets of boots by the door. Every breath was a promise. Every glance was an answer.
A peace I’d never known.
Underneath it all, I felt fear. What if this wasn’t real? What if this was nothing but a scrap of hope my mind and heart had stitched together? I reached for her hand. Even if it was only a dream, it was one I wanted to stay in for as long as the world would let me.
FOUR DAYS REMAINING
26
