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23
Tarnley
Firelight dances off the walls of Bronywyn’s room, casting shadows over her form as we lie together on the rug in front of the hearth.
It’s far too hot for a fire.
Far too cheesy to be lying here on a rug, right in front of it, covered in nothing but a sheet.
But seeing as how we will probably all be dead tomorrow, it seems the perfect time for cheesy. For too hot.
“What are you thinking about?” She rolls onto her side and props her head up on an arm.
“How fucking hot it is in this room.”
Bronywyn laughs, and I commit the sound to memory. “It is really hot. Whose bright idea was it to start a fire?”
Reaching forward, I run a fingertip down her side, and she closes her eyes, shivering despite the sweat beading on her body. “Well worth it to see you in the firelight.”
“You make everything sound so romantic.”
“With you, it is,” I retort, almost instantly.
She rolls her eyes, lies back down, and proceeds to stare at the ceiling. We may appear relaxed to anyone who happened to stumble upon this moment. But in reality, we’re already at war.
“So, Shay, huh?”
I groan. “That is probably worse than having the council summon us.”
“Really? That’s your comparison?”
I chuckle. “Maybe not, but I’ve never been overly fond of that name.”
“I think it’s a great name.”
“You were never teased mercilessly, then. Hot blondes rarely are.”
She chuckles and smiles softly before both begin to fade, our momentary distraction dissipating. “Do you think we’ll win?” she asks, voice nearly a whisper, barely audible over the crackling of orange and yellow flames.
I’ve never been a liar, choosing to stick to the truth even if it hurts. But right now, I really, really wish I could lie to her. Promise her that tomorrow night, we’ll be right back here. “We could still run.”
Bronywyn turns her emerald gaze to me. “Run? We’ll never be able to stop. It was different when we thought it was just a bunch of vampires after us. But the councils? They have endless resources at their disposal, Tarnley. They will find us, eventually.”
“But we’ll be alive.”
“For the moment. At least, if we face this ridiculous trial, we stand a chance.”
“Z and Lauren stayed hidden.”
“Because no one was looking for them.” She takes the sheet with her as she sits up. “Tarnley, if we run, every single supernatural in their arsenal will be out scouring the world for us. They will never stop.”
I know she’s right; we’ve already decided as much as a group, but the scope of it—it all seems too fucking brutal to bear.
If we run, we die.
If we stay, we will more than likely be killed.
What fucking choice do we have?
