Page 27 of Veiled Yearning

In unison, Frederick, Knight, and Larkin turn to look at me, all of them wearing identical expressions of shock.

I glower at them. “What? There’s nothing wrong with taking a short break.”

Larkin stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. Knight mutters, “Is this Gavril? Or an imposter?”

Frederick narrows his eyes at me, his gaze dark and assessing. Then he smirks. “It appears Maine agrees with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retort crisply. “There’s nothing odd about finding value in taking some time to relax.” On that note, I head back to the couch and sit down in emphasis. “Enjoy the fire for a few minutes before we get back to business.”

Knight snorts loudly.

Frederick makes a sound that’s something between a laugh and a cough, while Cait beams at me like I’ve just done something particularly amazing.

Larkin sighs heavily and grumbles, “I want the old Gavril back.”

Is my behavior really that shocking? After the day we’ve had—Chiara’s had—is it so bad to want her to take some time to recover?

Chiara settles on the couch beside me. She leans close, her soft hair brushing against my neck, and whispers, “Thank you. For earlier. And for this.”

I almost debate it. What thanks do I deserve? Thanks for almost getting her killed?

Chiara leans back against the cushions and tugs a blanket over her lap. Her eyes close for a moment, and she lets out a tiny, relieved sigh. Then she glances over at me, and after a moment of thought, she offers me half of the blanket. And even though my half will only cover one of my legs, I take it anyway.

When was the last time I sat with a woman like this? Sharing a blanket as we sit in front of a fire, our knees brushing occasionally? Close enough to catch the flowery scent of her hair? Watching her visibly relax the longer she sits next to me?

No. I’m not ruining this. Even if this moment is nothing but a fleeting memory, I’m hanging on to it for as long as I can.

10

A New Weapon

CHIARA

Walking into the dining room feels a bit like walking the plank.

At least, it’s how I would imagine it feeling. Dread and fear settle over me like a weighted cloak; anxiety making my insides quiver. An invisible band tightens around my chest. My stomach swoops in sickening loops.

Four faces regard me from around the large wooden table, none of them appearing particularly threatening; but frightening, just the same. It’s not that I’m scared of them, not really—I’m more afraid of what they’re going to say. Of what they’re going to ask me.

I hesitate as I near the table, debating which seat to take.

The empty one beside Knight, who I don’t know well, but he seems to be one of the more laid-back members of the Sentinels?

The chair next to Frederick, my closest friend of the group? But that would put me facing Larkin, who makes me the most nervous.

Or the spot beside Gavril, who inexplicably makes me feel safe when nothing else seems to work?

“Is everything okay, Chiara?” Frederick eyes me with concern.

This isn’t a hard decision. Why am I acting so indecisively?

I hurry to reassure him, “Everything’s fine.” Then I let my instincts take the lead, and I slip into the seat beside Gavril.

Once I’m seated, he turns and gives me a crooked smile. In a low voice, he asks, “You feeling alright? Do you need anything?”

Just as quietly, I reply, “Yeah. I feel okay.”

Gavril’s eyes stay on me, searching my face—not judging, but not quite believing, either.

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