He moans, his hands curled into fists, but his eyes remain shut.
“Wake up, Gabriel,” I murmur.
Nothing.
He thrashes, sweat pouring down his face in rivulets. The nightmare, whatever it is, has him firmly in its grasp. I say his name again and again, but he doesn’t stir. Worry settles deep in my gut, and I look away from the Hunter long enough to glance at the curtain covering the small window.
A thin sliver of light shines through the gap between the fabric and the windowsill, confirming it’s still daytime. I listento our surroundings, picking up the faint clattering of dishes and rising voices coming from downstairs.
I swallow. I need to wake Gabriel up before he draws attention to us. What if the Enforcer is still here? What if the innkeeper hears Gabriel shouting and comes up to investigate, thinking he’s hurt?
A thousand scenarios race through my mind, each worse than the last. Burning suns, what we were thinking finding refuge in this place? There are so many ways this can go wrong, so many ways for death to find us.
“Wake up, Hunter,” I say more insistently, the last vestiges of sleep chased away by my panic. Gods, what I wouldn’t do for some smelling salts right now. “Please, wake up.”
He screams again.
I slap my hand over his mouth, muffling the sound. He struggles against me, thrashing and writhing, and my vision blurs.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t make noise.”
A blue tinge paints Gabriel’s skin, and oh, gods, am I suffocating him? I yank my hand back, expecting him to gasp for breath, but he doesn’t.
Because the blue isn’t coming from him.
My Mark is burning, a blazing furnace under my skin. A few sparks jump from my fingers onto the wooden planks beneath us. Horrified, I smack them out of existence. Two more appear. Then five. Even more. They are bright, shooting stars in this dark space, and no matter how many I extinguish, more come to life.
Blessed, burning suns, no.
No, no, no.
I need to stop this before I do something that will endanger us and everyone else in this establishment.
“Fuck,” I moan, frantically trying to smother the sparks. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I clutch the Hunter’s hand, shivering at his clammy skin. The sparks don’t seem to burn him, much like the flames had avoided him in the tunnels under the palace. Like they know him.
Calm down, I order my magic, wondering if this will be the moment that it obeys my commands.
The sparks jump higher. Because of course they do.
“No,” I whimper.
We’re going to be found out, and it will be entirely my fault. It’s one thing for Gabriel to have a nightmare, and another for me to burn the inn to the ground.
My imagination is quick to conjure vivid images of blue flames devouring the building. It would go up like a tinderbox, the wood no match for the magic I can’t control. Screams and shouts of horror would come from all around us. People would turn to me, anger and disbelief in their eyes when they realize this fire isn’t normal, but of magical origin.
Magic I shouldn’t have, magic I don’t understand.
They would seize me and send for the king, who would come, his rage-filled crimson eyes shimmering with fury. He would take me, torture me, and kill me. I would never be seen again.
Just like all the other Given.
And Gabriel . . .
I would never see him again, either. Never get to talk to him or explore this connection between us, never look into those brilliant emerald eyes. Whatever is between us would forever remain a mystery. That thought, more than any of the others, brings tears to my eyes, and that pull deep inside me tugs me closer to the Hunter.
I don’t fight. Instead, I rise to my feet long enough to yank back the curtain, hoping the sunlight will help wake Gabriel,before stretching out beside him. Our legs line up, though his are longer than mine, and I hold my hands against my chest, trying to contain the sparks.
