My breath stutters. How long has he been awake?
“I’m just... listening.” Rolling away from Gabriel, because it’s one thing for us to be so close while he was asleep and another while he’s wide awake, I sit up. “How are you feeling?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Honestly, other than my right arm being a little stiff, I’m good.”
And when I look him over, assessing him for injuries, I reach the same conclusion. His cuts have healed, his face has regained most of its color, and he looks much like he did the night of the Winter’s Eve Ball. He’s able to move the fingers of his sprained arm, curling them into a fist.
Relieved that Gabriel is on the mend, I take my time in the bathing room, taking care of my personal needs. I even wash my hair, taming the wet curls into a loose braid that stops above my breasts.
When I return, Gabriel is sitting up, flipping through one of the romance novels Skyler had brought me. He glances up, his lips kicking into a smile as he puts down the book. “You look beautiful.”
My cheeks flush as I take in the form-fitting dark green tunic and black pants I’d slipped on. They’re not particularly special, but they are comfortable.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Birdie.” He lifts a brow, glancing at the closed door. “I thought that maybe today, we could?—”
Several things happen at once.
The air shifts.
Thickens.
The rubies’ hum, which had been a soft murmur, morphs into an ear-piercing screech. I cry out, pressing my palms flat against my ears.
“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asks, as if he can’t hear the ear-splitting sound.
Shouts of alarm come from the hallway before I can answer him. Our door is thrown open, and Skyler and a male guard I don’t recognize burst inside.
Skyler’s eyes are wide. “Come quickly. There’s been a security breach.”
22
WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS
GABRIEL
The guards hurry us out of the room as Skyler quickly explains that an alarm has been tripped.
Wren gasps and clutches my good arm. “Are we in danger?”
The gruff male guard looks over his shoulder and sends me a scalding look, narrowing his eyes. “Everyone’s in danger,” he snarls, and it’s clear he thinks we brought this upon them.
“We’re going to a safe place,” Skyler says. “But we need to hurry.”
“No more questions,” barks her male companion, herding us down the corridor and around a corner.
Our hallway was empty, but soon, streams of people join us. Everyone is headed in the same direction. The crowd is largely comprised of women and children, although there are some elders present. I take Wren’s hand. Our palms press together, and despite everything, a feeling of sureness unspools within me.
More people join the fray, and as we follow Skyler, I can’t help but look around with a mixture of shock and wonderment at all the people.
Whenever my father would talk about the insurgents plaguing his so-called idyllic kingdom, he made it sound asthough they were few in number. To hear him speak, they were exceedingly disorganized, nothing more than hungry peasants pushing back against his rule. He’d squash their uprisings, punish them for acting up, and return to ruling with a crimson fist. Even when I’d brought Wren here, I’d assumed there would be a few dozen people at best.
But the reality isnothinglike what I expected.
Rather than a disorganized group, I inadvertently brought Wren to an entire community living underground. The People of the Wilting Roses are organized, and even though babies are wailing and children are shrieking, the adults move with a calm composure that tells me this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.
A pair of teenagers races past, weaving through the crowd, and Wren sucks in a breath, staring at the boys with wide eyes. I don’t think their speed is what caught her attention, but the Marks they both bear.
