“So this is...?”
“Obligation.”
I laugh softly. “You really know how to charm a crowd.”
He shrugs.
I turn, watching the performers for a moment. “It’s beautiful, though. In a weird, almost-threatening kind of way.”
“That’s accurate.”
We fall quiet for a beat. The fog shifts again, creeping closer to the square’s edges. I feel it in my teeth. Something’s moving. Not fast. But watching.
“You feel that?” I ask, and my voice comes out lower than I mean it to. Not scared. Just... aware.
“I do.”
I glance at him, expecting that same distant stare he wears like armor. But this time, there’s something else under it. Something almost gentle. He looks at me like he’s seeing more than he should.
“What is it?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.
“Could be nothing. Could be the Hollow reminding us we’re not in charge.”
His voice is like gravel warmed by fire. Rough, but not unkind. I want to ask more, but Mari comes running up just then, breathless and sticky and glowing with too much sugar and joy.
“Mama! That man had a snake and it told me I’m a moon!” she says, arms flailing.
“Did you understand the snake?”
“Duh. It hissed in poems.”
Hardin raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. “It’s been a long day.”
Mari wraps herself around my leg and rests her cheek against my hip. “Can we stay a little longer?”
I glance at Hardin, who’s still watching the trees.
He nods once. “Stay in the light.”
We do.
And that’s when it happens.
One of the lanterns near us flickers. Not like a candle caught in the wind, but like something sucked the light from it. Then another. Then a third. The crowd doesn’t notice right away, but I feel it. Like the ground beneath us is stretching, reaching.
Mari doesn’t seem to notice. She’s busy showing Hardin the glitter in her pockets.
But my hand twitches. I reach out, half on instinct, and my fingers brush his.
It’s a simple touch. Nothing more than skin against skin. But it lights something in me I can’t explain.
A spark. Literal.
Tiny arcs of light skip across my fingers like static, but it’s warm. It pulses, once, like a heartbeat, then fades. I yank my hand back, eyes wide, but he doesn’t flinch.
His gaze holds mine steady.
