Page 77 of The Heart Trials

The world narrows to the space between us, the rest of the Hollow going quiet. The air feels thinner suddenly, despite being closer to the sea. Then his smile returns, crooked and a little breathless.

“So your mother never got to see all the Hollow became?” I ask.

“No,” he says, clearing his throat. “She helped get it started. She and my father never got along. It was a safe haven for her. And well, you know what happened after that…”

I don’t. Not exactly. He hasn’t told me the circumstances around his mother’s death, other than that she drowned, and I am not going to ask. I told him about how my mother died of sickness. And how it’s my greatest fear that Serafina will too. He assured me, again, that we would not let that happen.

We talk and walk. Then talk and sit. I try his ice cream when he’s not looking and in retaliation he takes a bite out of mine.

When we finish, I notice the time and shoot up from my seat. “Caelus. It’s almost midday!”

“Dorian.”

“We have to hurry.”

24

Once we’re back above ground, we take a different route back through the quarters. Fear pulses through me as we run, dodging vendor carts and bustling market stalls, traipsing around and in between tight stone corridors and crowded awnings. But as much as I can’t get Dorian out of my head, my skin still buzzes with Caelus’s touch. Rain droplets fall from the sky, just a few, but enough. When we pause at an intersection waiting for a wagon with grain sacks to pass, I close my eyes, savoring the cold, wet moisture on my eyelids. I’ve felt the rain on my skin a thousand times. But it feels different this time, like something has awakened in me, and it’s starving.

Caelus beckons me across another busy road, face carved with determination as he reaches back for my hand to hurry along. I take it without thinking, without remembering to recoil, without insisting on distance. I stare at our hands intertwined, trying to understand the impossible. We just met. But the feeling I get when I hear my name from his lips, the way he’s helped Serafina, his insistence on getting me a ship, his willingness to help now, it all rushes at me, drowning me in feelings.

I squeeze his hand tighter.

“The fastest way back is through the Industry Quarter,” he says.

We skirt a procession of griefwalkers passing out gray veils, carrying ledgers, collecting names on street corners before turning the corner. The scenery changes to soot-dusted buildings and smoke curling from iron chimneys. Market stalls brim with metal trinkets I’ve never seen and fabrics in earth colors. Murals of Skyborn in factory robes watch from cracked brick walls. Workers move rhythmically through the streets, and we stay out of their way, cutting through alleyways. When the Industry Quarter is behind us, it’s not much longer before the quaint Porcelain Parlor on one of Skyhaven’s quieter streets comes into view.

“Did Rhythe say where to meet you?” Caelus asks.

“No. But we shouldn’t be seen here together. Maybe it should look like we’ve been fighting?”

He doesn’t argue when I let go of his hand and put a whole street of distance between us. A small crowd dines at petite tables outside. None of them are contestants. Inside it smells of dried flowers and polished wood. In the corner at a small table covered in teacups are Dorian and Mae, fingers laced together, leaned in close. My heart hammers softer. I’m not too late.

“Dorian.” I keep my voice low, scanning for some sign of Rhythe, Lira, Talia, or anyone from the alliance. But I don’t see anyone.

“Axira? You have a tea party on your—” He stops mid-sentence. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

Mae’s brows furrow as she glances over her shoulder. “What? Why?”

Highborn heads swivel. People are listening. Watching.

Dorian smooths his hands on his pants and stands. “I don’t understand. We’re having a nice time.”

“Dorian, if she says we should go, we should go,” Mae insists.

But as he stands, Mercyenforcers push into the tea shop. Skyborn scramble out of their way. Dreth steps inside last and watches silently as his men shove Dorian up against a wall. Mae is rooted in place. I grab her and pull her out of the way.

“What’s going on here?” Caelus’s voice cuts through the thick tension as he rushes inside.

“Outside, sir. It’s not safe,” says one of the Mercyenforcers, already stepping in front of him.

“Safety concerns are a matter of state,” Caelus says. “I am the state. Answer my question.”

Dreth’s jaw flexes. “Rebel sighting.”

Before Dorian can speak, a Mercyenforcer lunges, slamming an arm across his collarbone, pinning him to the wall. Dorian’s boots skid against the tiled floor as the guard shoves a pulsing glass into his chest. A Heartfiller to keep him controlled.