Page 22 of Light

In her dream, he was sitting across from her, crowded uncomfortably into a small space he didn’t recognize. His wings scraped the ceiling, and the chair he was crammed into was made of a strange white material.

She, too, was dressed strangely, in men’s pants like none he’d seen before. Her hair was short and cut above the neck, and there was a hardness to her features that this version of her did not possess.

The scene changed, and she was in a hall lined with windows. Lifting one hand, she watched in fascination as dust swirled between her fingers. He knew instinctively he was there. He was that dust, straining to be near her.

She looked so different. Had he not seen this dream, knowing it for what it was, he would not have known it was her. But this was a vision. She was dreaming of a future he couldn’t imagine. A future where she had not aged, though the world around her was transformed.

Chapter 18

Adalaide

Adalaide stretched, feeling the pull of new scar tissue below her ribcage, confirming at least some of last night had not been a dream. She ran a hand over the empty space beside her where she’d dreamed Gabriel had lain.

She glanced out the window and sat up. The last vestiges of daylight crept quietly behind their veil, casting the world outside in that eerie time between day and night. She had slept the day away, and now she was left with very little time to ward the house before someone new came to kill her.

After the horrid night she’d had and the dream of her parents’ deaths, she ought to be in one of her moods, but she found there was a lightness in her chest she couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was the inkling which lived inside her, guiding her path, warning her when danger was near. It was telling her no foul thing would find her this night.

She slid out of bed, padding lightly to the boudoir in the corner of her room and pulled out a loose top that buttoned up the front and a pair of riding breeches. They were made for men, but they allowed her freer movement on the nights she would need to fight for her life, and those were becoming more and more frequent.

Dressing quickly, Adalaide rushed to the back hall, raising her arms to begin the work Jophiel had been teaching her. Her fire magic was strong, making it easy to follow, but her natural inclination was to use her air magic.

She stopped, biting her lip.

A strong air shield was woven against the wall. She tested it, pressing her own magic tentatively into it. The magic was absorbed, embracing hers as if in a warm hug.

“Gabriel?”

The ember at her chest pulsed, and she spun, sucking in a sharp breath.

He was there, arms folded over his chest, massive white wings splayed wide behind him. Her gaze trailed the length of him, finding him even more beautiful than she remembered. A nervous thrill ran through her. She’d thought he would never return when Jophiel came and came again each night.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

The ember in her heart warmed, charging in his presence, and thoughts began to slip into her mind.

Should leave. Should go. Dangerous. Perfect. Torture. Selfish.

His thoughts, some in contrast to one another and the last—nonsensical—made her heart sink. He didn’t want to be there. With her. He was likely only there to ward her home because Jophiel had been called to some other task.

She was reminded again of the way they’d parted the last time they saw each other. The only other time they’d spent together. A sharp pain pierced her breast, leaving her gasping for air. She leaned into the wall.

Gabriel uncrossed his arms, his leg twitching as if to move. Toward her? Away? She wasn’t sure; the fact that his thoughts had gone silent sent fresh pain through her chest.

“I’m not sure why you came,” she managed through shallow breaths. “Jophiel has taught me all I need to ward my home from the creatures. There was no need to trouble yourself over me.”

She didn’t say she’d rather not see him if it only caused them both pain. She didn’t say she wished he’d close the distance and press his lips to hers.

By the way his face changed, she didn’t need to say anything aloud. Though he knew the trick for keeping his thoughts from her, she certainly did not know how to reciprocate.

He said nothing, watching her as thoughts continued to tumble through her mind. It was as if they were having some silent, one-sided conversation in the hall outside her room—the room where she’d been sleeping naked while he was warding her house.

Her cheeks flamed.

Had he come into her room? Seen her? It should have felt like a violation to consider it, but she found she really only wanted to know if her naked form appealed to him.

His lips quirked up at the corners. The devilish look on his face made a riot of butterflies erupt in her stomach. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his thoughts before. Some of them…

As quickly as it had arrived, the look was gone, and he crossed his arms once more.

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