Fifty-One
Quell
I lie there waiting for Jordan to fall asleep. The plan was to rest and prepare for tomorrow. But then he looked at me with those green eyes, and it set me on fire, taking me back to feelings I was sure I had buried. Then we kissed and it reminded me what it felt like to truly be alive. It felt good to not care who I was, for once, and take what I want. I hate him for running. But I love him for all he sees in me.
Frustration tangles in my chest. How, after everything, can he still choose to be a coward? I toss and turn, trying to think of something, anything other than Jordan Wexton, but the last few hours won’t let me go. I slip out of bed and pad to the window as quietly as I can. But the minute I open the balcony door, he props up on his elbows in bed.
“Quell, I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you okay?”
If he asks me that one more time, I’m going to scream. I ignore him, stepping outside, letting the breeze from the ocean whip through my hair, imagining I could take flight on the wind. And disappear from here. Go to wherever my mother is. My heart pangs and I immediately regret allowing myself the space to think of her. But grief doesn’t seem to follow any of my rules; it refuses to stay in the box I put it in. I sit on the balcony’s railing.
“Quell, please come back to bed. You really do need rest.” He stands in the doorway; his body glistens in the moonlight. A scar across his ribs disappearing behind him is his only glaring imperfection. But it helps to make him human.
“Well, thanks to you, I can’t sleep.” I storm past him, back inside, and sit up in the bed. “Did you ever tell me how you got that scar?”
He looks down. His fingers trace it.
“When they buried me during one of my Trials, the fool shoved the spade too deep in the ground and it caught me in the ribs.”
I wince. The things he’s survived…it’s miraculous he’s not a complete monster.
“My aunt called the scar a badge of honor.”
For the first time in a long time, when I look at Jordan, I don’t see the veil he holds so firmly in place. He sits in the chair by the fire. “I can sleep here if that makes it easier for you to rest.”
“That’s not helpful. I’m fine.” My irritation thrums, remembering his decision. I don’t want him to leave. I want him right here. Beside me. How else will I…I glare at the red pendant. Then look away. He meets my eyes, and staring into them renders me immobile because of the way he gazes at me. As if he’s probing my soul. As if he wants to know me in the deepest way. As if he wants to see me inside and out and love every part of me.
And as if he finally has the courage to.
It takes my breath away.
He looks at me like no one else ever has. My heart patters as I drink in his stare. It feels like all I’ve ever truly wanted was to be known fully and to hear that I’m okay. Tears well in my eyes and he rises from his seat, joining me at the bedside in a breath, tracing away each tear before it falls. I wish I could tell him that he thinks I’m the powerful, unapologetic, and carefree one. But the truth is I live in terror every day of being alone forever.
“You’re not fine. I always know how you’re really feeling.” His fingers leave my face and draw circles on my hands.
“I don’t like the idea of you leaving Yagrin and me to finish this trip together.”
“Why not?” Something hides between his words.
“He isn’t helpful in the ways you are.” Fear keeps me from admitting the full truth.
“Yagrin is good company. The times I couldn’t sleep when we were kids, he’d tell me stories. When my aunt found us, she dragged me from his room and gave me three nights with the wolves. She told me to cuddle them.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Hurt is etched in a notch between his brows. He doesn’t try to hide it.
Beaulah really broke him. Somehow I hate her more.
“The Healer had me for almost a month.”
“She is an awful person. She deserves what’s coming to her.”
“I’ve realized there’s something broken in my aunt. Instead of trying to fix it in herself, she tries to break it in other people.”
“I will break her more.” The truth of my plan sticks to my lips. I search him, wondering if maybe he could be convinced to help me take the Sphere’s magic and put justice in our hands.
He peels back the covers and climbs back in bed with me. I turn my back to him, hugging my pillow. This is always how it is with us. He connects to something inside me, and it holds on to me like a tether.
“Are you really going to leave?”
His hand rests on my back gently. I raise my elbow, allowing his arm to slip around me. He pulls me tight against him. My head nestles in the space beneath his jaw. “For now, let’s just both rest.”
He strokes the hairs beside my face. And in a breath I’m fast asleep.
I awaken with Jordan’s body wrapped around mine. He sleeps so peacefully. We’ve shifted in the night, and I’m sprawled across his chest. Outside our door is faint commotion. But I bury my head back in the covers, not wanting this to end. His hand strokes my back. Outside, the sky is a dim blue with the promise of morning. Last night feels like a dream.
“How sure are you there will be a flare today?” he asks.
“I would bet my toushana on it.” I have to tell him the truth about my plans for the Sphere’s magic. Otherwise, last night meant nothing.
“I need to get Yagrin so he can cloak with us.” He stirs beneath me, and I eye the pendant on his chest.
“I think I know where Beaulah is going to store the magic from the Sphere.”
“What do you mean?”
“The stone in the cave—I touched it because I suspected it was like Cultivator ring stones and could contain toushana.” I hold up his pendant. “I think this is made of the same stone.”
“I know for a fact it is. Why do you think I don’t let you ever touch it?”
“Jordan, I want to beat Beaulah at her own game. I want us to take the innards of the Sphere and hold them in your pendant.”
He goes rigid and my heart stumbles. Then he unfurls himself from me, and we sit up side by side in bed.
“See me, Jordan. Please. I don’t have any desire for power over the Order or anything ridiculous like that. I am not Beaulah.”
He breathes harder, watching me. Silent.
“You know me better than anyone.”
His chin slides over his shoulder, looking away from me. After several moments, he says, “I do see you, Quell. But have you considered what possessing something so powerful could do to you, especially with your affliction? And for someone still facing a death sentence, it feels a bit reckless to be—”
“Forget I said anything.” I get out of bed. I can’t listen to what sounds like rejection from him. Not now, not after last night. “If you’ll excuse me, I have revenge to accomplish.”
He gestures for me to go.
Outside I pace. He is entirely frustrating. He won’t stop my plans. I’m going to get that pendant from his neck. Beaulah will be tormented to know the power she loves so much is in my hands. The sun glares at me, and I use the last of the Dust in the vial around my neck. I suspend it in the air and once the haze settles, magic surges through me, up from the place where it sleeps, freezing my chest before pushing its way behind my eyes. I shift my line of sight to look through the Dust at the sun and blink. Colorful spots bleed through the dusty haze. I count. There are so many, I lose count at one hundred.
“Jordan!”
“What is it?”
“Get Yagrin now.”