She is his.
I should be upset by that, right? One would think I’d be panicking, and maybe I will after I get some sleep. But right now, I’m not angry. I’m not even shocked, to be honest.
When Evelyn made her proclamation, relief had flooded through me because so many things suddenly made perfect sense. The way I feel about Gabriel, the way I’ve been drawn to him since we first met, even the way I’ve been dreaming about him since he first issued me the head start.
“Yes,” I murmur, answering his earlier question. “I’m good.”
Or at least, I will be. I’m more concerned about him, to be honest. It’s clear he received far rougher treatment than I did, and he’s in desperate need of healing. Now that we’re away from the chambers, his condition seems to be rapidly deteriorating.
And that won’t do. Not now, when Gabriel and I have so much more to learn about each other. After all, he is meant to be mine.
My belly swoops at the thought, and even though our situation remains dire, my lips twitch into a small smile. Everything seems more manageable with Gabriel by my side, which should frighten me but doesn’t. Even the fact that we are being led through tunnels to what I’m hoping isn’t another cell doesn’t seem as awful with him here.
We traverse more windowless corridors, the floor sloping downwards, and pass many doors, but there aren’t any people in sight. That doesn’t stop their hushed whispers from floating past us.
“Who are they?”
“Shh, get away from the door. Mama said we aren’t supposed to...”
“They’re suns-kissed!” A gasp. “They’ve been outside!”
An angry hiss. “The suns-damned Hunter should’ve been put down...”
On and on, the whispers continue.
Someone remarks on my cuffs, calling them shadestone. I’ve never heard of the material before but given my education—or lack thereof—about most things in this world, that isn’t surprising.
Another person calls on Agatho, the god of protection and nobility, to shield from the Blessed.
Fromme.
I stumble again, and it’s only thanks to Gabriel’s quick reflexes that I don’t fall flat on my face. There’s no doubt that I’m the one they’re referring to. After all, both the seer and King Andreas used the term when speaking about me.
They’re wrong, though.
I don’t feel Blessed. If anything, I’m fairly certain I’m cursed. I realize these people don’t know who I am, but it’s fucking laughable that anyone would fear me. I don’t want to hurt anyone—I never have.
I just want to live.
It’s this damned swirl on my forehead. Once again, this Mark is the root of all my problems, and I can’t get rid of it.
Eventually, the captain stops. He removes a lantern from a hook on the wall, withdraws a key from his pocket, and unlocks the door.
“This is your room,” Alaric says, turning the knob. The guards shift, coming to stand at our backs.
“Mine?” I peer around the captain to look inside.
Based on what I can see, the space is definitely bigger than the cell. It’s sparsely furnished, but there’s a bed, which is a step up from my previous accommodations.
“Not just yours.” Alaric’s eyes flick between Gabriel and me. “It’s for both of you.”
Oh.
Well.
That’s . . . not as great.
Especially since, as far as I can tell, the bed shoved against the wall is the only one in the windowless room. A flickering lamp rests on the solitary bedside table, and the walls appear to be made of the same red-speckled stone as everything else. There’s a small dresser, and sitting on top are two piles of clean clothes.
