Fair enough.
He patted the center, and I crawled onto it, joining him beneath the covers. When he turned onto his side, I did the same. Our bodies slotted together, each hard plane of his frame perfectly enveloping my lithe one.
Here I was safe. Beyond these walls? Goddess only knew what type of war awaited us.
The world knowing we were mates hadn’t solved anything; instead, it was only the beginning of something new. Something unknown. Something terrifying.
A warm arm draped across my stomach, tugging me closer. His nose found my neck and inhaled deeply. “Ghostflower,” he whispered, almost to himself. “So very you.”
I yawned, unable to help myself, as the sleep continued to chase me down. With the comfort of his bed, the fan circling a few feet away, cooling the space, and our connection’s continued silence, a restful night was within reach for the first time in weeks.
My eyes closed, too heavy to remain open.
“Everything I do is for you. I hope you can remember that,” he mumbled against my hair.
The words barely registered as weariness claimed me, causing me to drift, drift, drift…
But they settled somewhere deep, like seeds buried in dark soil, waiting to bloom.
***
The two females linked arms and skipped toward the glassy lake. It was childish, they knew, but with the silver-haired one’s birthday declaring her an adult, they wanted a few more moments to be young.
“What will you do now, Sylaira?” the aquamarine-eyed one asked as they reached the water’s edge.
“Keep practicing Vaelaï since I’ve finished all my final exams. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to travel and perform,” she gushed, standing on her toes and bending into a crescent. Then, she flung her arms out wide and starleaped down the shore.
The other raced after her, clumsily mimicking her friend.
They both stopped, laughing and breathless, near a small waterfall.
“You must continue your painting, Heraphia,” Sylaira encouraged, bracing a hand against the rough stone. “The world needs that light.”
Heraphia shrugged. “Perhaps. But I think I’d be better suited to teaching. That way I don’t have to leave my precious works behind every time we’re forced to move.”
Sylaira reached for her friend and pulled her into a hug. “Things will calm down. We only had to pack up and go once so far. And our upcoming one is just a precaution.”
“I know,” Heraphia said with a sigh as she backed away and went to stand facing the lake. “Still hurts.”
Sylaira trailed her fingers along the rock wall until the chilled trickle of water ghosted over her fingertips.
With a hiss, she jerked her hand away, the water suddenly scorching. She shook her arm, in violent, jerky motions, the sensation creeping up even as she backed away.
“Are you okay?” Heraphia called out, but to Sylaira, the voice might as well have been underwater.
Her vision swam like she’d plummeted beneath the surface of the lake. Darkness edged in.
“No!” she shrieked, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. Heart thundering against her ribs, she desperately scanned her memories, seeking the moment she’d last consumed a dose of virelthorn.
Only to realize it had been before weeks of studying and her birthday.
Her spine snapped straight, forcing her head toward the sky. Toward where the Goddess watched over Her creations. Toward where She’d offer a prophecy to Her most powerful Seer.
Heraphia spun just in time to witness Sylaira’s fall. Water splashed. Stone crunched. A whimper escaped her friend’s lips just as she crashed to the ground at her side.
Ice-blue irises disappeared, replaced by a pure white. A tremor wracked Sylaira’s frame. Foam gathered at the corners of her mouth. Her lips moved, at first silent, and then with a relentless, screaming stream of words.
Heraphia’s breath froze in her throat. Terrorflickered in her heart—terror for both of them. Because she knew what was happening.
