Chapter 4
Despite my prediction, sleep creeps up, rolling over my body like a poisoned fog. When a soft click pulls me back to the waking world, it takes an unsettling moment to remember where I am. I blink, turning the solid black into shapes, and then, as my eyes adjust, to details.
Gryphon faces his wardrobe across the room. He’s pulling his shirt over his head with a tug on the back collar. I’m in his house, in his bedroom, in his bed. My heart punches my chest with such force that I gasp.
Gryphon turns. I crush my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. He’ll leave me alone if he thinks I’m out. Right? My head spins, a sickening swirl as I try to piece together the twisted path that led us here.
When we were children, Gryphon was my only friend outside the family.
Following the rules was mandatory for every child in the Valley, but after my dad’s death, it became my entire identity, to the point that no one else could stand me.
By the time we reached third grade, everyone knew that if a teacher started asking a question, my hand would shoot up before the sentence was out of their mouth.
If we were asked to skip dessert for a week because there weren’t enough apples for everyone, I’d go without for two.
When Salvatora of the Cobblers stole a cup from the chapel altar on a dare and Sojourner said it was our duty to turn in the thief, I was the one who tattled.
I wince in embarrassment. I don’t fault them in their dislike of me, but Mom taught me that following the rules was necessary to keep my family safe. I had to be the best at it.
White-haired Marina—daughter of the Record Keeper House and sister to Simon—led the bullies against me in school. Gryphon was the only classmate who defied her. He was a natural leader.
More importantly, he was my first patient.
He often came to school covered in cuts and bruises from training.
It took time and gentle persistence to earn his trust enough for him to let me tend his wounds.
Unlike the other Guardians, Gryphon never set foot in the Apothecary House, so the quiet duty of mending his injuries fell solely to me.
I came to look forward to the moment when he’d find me right before school started, a smile on his face even as a fresh sprain demanded binding on his wrist. How it overjoyed me to have someone to practice on!
That all changed on the day of our cohort’s betrothal ceremony. By that time, I was thirteen, Gryphon fourteen, and thanks to all the quiet conversations we’d had as I rubbed salve on his latest abrasion or dabbed moss on a bruise, I’d developed a crush on him the size of a barn.
The betrothal ceremony was meant to be a celebration—the first time we’d hear the name of our future husband or wife.
I hummed with excitement walking to school that day.
I hoped to hear Gryphon’s name joined with mine, naturally.
I’d even gone so far as to imagine what it’d be like to kiss him one day.
Still, I vowed to make the best of it no matter who I was matched with.
That resolve was tested when he snuck me a daisy right before the ceremony.
As couples were declared, some were better than others at disguising their feelings.
Eero grinned when clever Meryl of the Entertainer House was announced as his match; less so Alarica of the Guardians when she was assigned to Ernest the Leatherworker.
I couldn’t read Marina’s expression when she was assigned to Jonas, though he appeared happy enough.
When it was down to only three of us and Nikola Bell of the Engineers was declared my fateful match, I pasted on my best smile despite the crushing disappointment. We’d already lost my dad by then, so I knew my place. My ridiculous grin lasted until my eyes met Gryphon’s.
He’d been declared a Caster. A matchless spare.
He nodded, impassive, and strode out. I chased him, the daisy he’d given me still in hand, but he was too quick.
“Running after your boyfriend?” Marina taunted, snatching the flower and tossing it aside. Since her mother’s Harvest, she’d grown sharp, all teeth. “Everyone knows you love Gryphon.”
“I don’t,” I lied loudly, terrified the village would think me disloyal to my betrothed. My cheeks burned. “I love Nikola. Gryphon was only someone to practice on.”
“Hear that, Gryphon?” Marina smiled ferociously.
I turned to see him behind me, raw pain flashing across his face before his expression hardened. He laughed, ugly and cold. “Consider the feeling mutual. I only ever liked your poultices.” He walked away.
My heart splintered.
“He begged me to kiss him, you know,” Marina purred. “I said no, of course. We must follow the rules.” She patted my cheek, and then she, too, strode away.
Gryphon and I didn’t talk much after that.
He stopped bringing me flowers, stopped playing with me, barely even acknowledged I existed.
My mother said it was only right for a friendship like ours to fade after the betrothals were announced.
Whatever had existed between the two of us in childhood was left to shrivel in the sun.
What a cruel fate, then, that he and I are now bound together for eternity, currently sharing a bedroom.
He’s been quiet for too long. I peer beneath my lashes and am horrified to see that he’s studying me. I’m so shocked that I instinctively pull back. Lucky Bunny falls out of my hand and drops to the floor.
Heart hammering, I watch to see what he’ll do. I can’t make out his expression in the dark, just that he’s facing me, his head at an angle. Moonlight cuts across his broad chest and brutally powerful arms. Finally he reaches down and grabs the toy, which he holds up.
“Lucky Bunny?” he asks, something like delight in his voice.
Of all the emotions warring inside me, it’s surprise that reaches the top. “You know the stories?”
His face has returned to the shadows. “You told them to me the first time you stitched me up.” He sounds hoarse. “You don’t remember?”
I hadn’t, but at his words, the memory comes rushing back.
I’d meant to distract him from the pain, and all I—a child—had in my arsenal was the fairy tales my gran told me, stories that’d brought me comfort when I needed it.
I’m feeling a warmth toward Gryphon that I haven’t experienced in years when suddenly, my brother’s terrified face replaces it.
I sit up, jutting out my hand. “Give it to me.”
The blanket slides down, and I remember I’m only wearing my underclothes. I tug the cloth back up, but it’s too late. Gryphon has seen my discomfort.
He makes an affronted noise, almost a growl. “Where are your night clothes?”
As if he doesn’t know we didn’t make the walk, and why. “At my house,” I spit out.
He steps toward me, and I tense, heart clobbering against my ribs. I’m pulling my knees toward my chest, preparing to kick him in the stomach, when I realize he’s not coming to me at all. He’s striding to the door, picking his shirt up from the floor as he goes.
I yank the blanket up to my neck, wishing I could cut holes in it for my head and arms and wear it like a dress. Beyond the bedroom, I hear what sounds like an argument. Gryphon’s voice. His mother’s, low and savage.
Then silence.
The bedroom door slams open seconds later. I jump, still clutching the blanket.
“Your things will be fetched for you tomorrow,” Gryphon says. “For tonight, wear this. I’m afraid I don’t have anything cleaner to offer.”
He tosses me his shirt, then strides to the wardrobe to pull out what looks like spare bedding. While his back is to me, I hurry to tug the shirt on beneath the blanket. It smells of the night, of pine trees, of Gryphon.
“Don’t do me any more favors,” I mutter, threading my arms through the sleeves.
He tenses but doesn’t say a word as he lays a blanket and pillow on the floor.