I nod, and Skyler steps inside, kicking the door shut behind her. She’s balancing a tray, and she hooks a chair with her foot, dragging it over to the bed. Like me, Skyler is wearing a black tunic and tight pants. Unlike me, she looks rested. Since the battle, I haven’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time without being plagued by nightmares.
Skyler places the tray on the bedside table, and I survey the contents. A green apple, a bowl of warm oats, and two small loaves of bread with a tiny container of red jam sit next to a pot of tea, the porcelain embellished with paintings of an autumnal forest, and two empty cups.
“I brought extras, in case he had woken during the night, but...” Skyler’s voice trails off, and she grimaces. “I’m sorry, Wren.”
I pull over the other chair and slump into it, rubbing my temples.
“Thanks. Me too.” I’m not sure what else to say. It’s not okay, and honestly, I’m not sure anything ever will be again. “It feels like years have passed, not a month, since the battle.”
Sometimes, my prior life feels like a dream. Like my upbringing in Grenbloom, growing up with Amelia, being raised to be Given, watching my best friend be murdered, and fleeing my Giving Ceremony was all some insane story I dreamed up one night.
But it wasn’t. Amelia’s bracelet dangles on my left wrist, a reminder that everything was all too real. The Given really do die, I really do have magic, and Gabriel really is asleep. I’ve been trying to stay strong, but it’s becoming more and more difficult.
I reach for the tray and pour two cups of tea, focusing on the steaming liquid instead of my inner turmoil.
I keep one for myself and hand the other to Skyler. She takes it with a small smile. “Thanks, Wren.”
The tea is dark and has a deeply herbaceous flavor. I hadn’t tried this blend before coming here, and it’s taken a few times for it to grow on me.
We sip our tea in silence for several minutes before Skyler clears her throat. “You know, you never told me how you two met.”
I look up. “Gabe and I?”
“Yes.” Skyler tilts her head. “I’ve never met a Blessed and an Inherited who share a fated bond before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”
That makes two of us. “To be honest, I’m not sure about what the bond entails.”
I’ve been meaning to talk to the seer about it, but it will have to wait until Gabriel wakes up.Ifhe wakes up. If he doesn’t, then the bond doesn’t matter, does it?
The dark thought has my breath catching in my throat, and tears prick at my eyes. Suns, I feel so fucking helpless right now.
My half-empty teacup shakes as I put it aside and retake Gabriel’s hand. The rebels never replaced the shadestone manacles, and I’m grateful for that. With everything that’s happened, the last thing I need is to feel like a prisoner right now.
Skyler doesn’t push me, sitting with me in silence as several minutes pass.
My Mark’s sheen covers both our hands as I press my cheek against Gabriel’s fingers. He may not be awake, but his touch is still comforting. Is that the bond?
“What Gabriel and I have is... complicated,” I eventually say, running my thumb down his hand. My eyes remain trained on his face, hoping that this will be the moment he wakes.
There’s no movement, and my lips tug into a frown.
“Oh?” Skyler arches a brow.
She doesn’t push me for answers, and I like that about her. She’s never interrogated me, and I get the sense that she’s here because she cares about me not because she’s taking part in some information-gathering mission on behalf of the People of the Wilting Roses.
“Very complicated, if I’m honest.” Gently placing Gabriel’s hand back on the bed, I pick up a small loaf off the tray.
Splitting the bread in half, I smear jam across the inside before taking a bite. The spread is sweet and tart at the same time, and it tastes incredible. There’s something about it that reminds me of the moonberries Amelia and I used to collect, although those were more purple than red.
When I’m finished, I refill my tea from the pot and cup the mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.
“Before Gabe and I were... this”—I gesture vaguely to him, then me as if that explains anything—“things between us were a little different.”
I hardly know how to define what Gabriel and I have right now. Are we allies? Friends? Partners in being hunted by the king? None of these seems quite right.
Skyler sips her tea. “How . . . different?”
I lean in. “Well, for starters, you know he’s a Hunter, right?” Or he was.
