Meant to Be Mine
WREN
She is his.
The seer continues speaking as if she hasn’t made a series of proclamations that have left my mind spinning. I vaguely hear her say that, at least for now, Gabriel and I will remain under her people’s protection.
The word protection sounds suspiciously like remaining under guard, if I’m being honest, but I can’t think too hard about that at this moment. I’m stuck on Evelyn’s confirmation that Gabriel and I are fated to be together.
Tension ebbs from the room the longer the seer speaks. It’s easier to breathe. People are still watching us out of the corners of their eyes, but there isn’t as much outright hostility in their expressions.
Still, it’s clear that this group does not trust us, and honestly, I don’t blame them. After everything I’ve been through, the list of people I can trust is minuscule. Right now, it feels like it’s me and Gabriel against the world.
When the seer finishes speaking, the red-haired captain escorts us out of the cavernous room.
We stop in the hallway so they can unlock Gabriel’s chains, but they leave our manacles on.
Which, like much of this situation, is not great.
My wrists are itchy, and dried blood is gathering on my skin beneath the cuffs.
A bath would be fucking amazing, but this doesn’t seem like the right moment to ask for one.
Eight guards form a box around us, which feels dramatic since we aren’t armed, and Gabriel looks like he’s about to collapse, either from exhaustion or his injuries, I’m not sure.
“Where to, Alaric?” a gruff guard on my left asks.
“The Hollows,” the captain replies.
That must mean something to everyone else because we start walking. Our escort keeps a steady pace, and my muscles complain after days of inactivity, but at least we aren’t running. Since good things are few and far between these days, I’m going to count that as a win.
Lanterns hanging in regular intervals on the stone walls illuminate our path, shoving away the shadows. I’m not sure where we are, but judging by the lack of natural light and all the stone we must be underground somewhere. Maybe in a set of interconnected caves?
It’s odd. Without the suns or moons to guide me, I don’t even know whether it’s day or night.
There’s just the lanterns and the mystifying red sheen on the rocks.
Now that we’re closer, I realize the discoloration isn’t a trick of the eye.
The walls are shimmering because hundreds of rubies, some as big as my thumb and others as small as specks of dust, are embedded in them.
I gape, staring at the gems, and the distraction causes my foot to catch on the floor. Gabriel’s hand lands on my arm, steadying me. He removes it once I’ve regained my footing.
“You good?” he asks quietly, the words meant for my ears alone.
Am I? I don’t know. It’s been an incredibly long day, and the amount of information I’m processing would give anyone a headache.
I haven’t even had the chance to think about the fact that somehow we’re with a group of rebels because my mind is stuck on the seer’s proclamation that Gabriel and I are fated.
She is his.
I should be upset by that, right? One would think I’d be panicking, and maybe I will after I get some sleep. But right now, I’m not angry. I’m not even shocked, to be honest.
When Evelyn made her proclamation, relief had flooded through me because so many things suddenly made perfect sense. The way I feel about Gabriel, the way I’ve been drawn to him since we first met, even the way I’ve been dreaming about him since he first issued me the head start.
“Yes,” I murmur, answering his earlier question. “I’m good.”
Or at least, I will be. I’m more concerned about him, to be honest. It’s clear he received far rougher treatment than I did, and he’s in desperate need of healing. Now that we’re away from the chambers, his condition seems to be rapidly deteriorating.
And that won’t do. Not now, when Gabriel and I have so much more to learn about each other. After all, he is meant to be mine.
My belly swoops at the thought, and even though our situation remains dire, my lips twitch into a small smile.
Everything seems more manageable with Gabriel by my side, which should frighten me but doesn’t.
Even the fact that we are being led through tunnels to what I’m hoping isn’t another cell doesn’t seem as awful with him here.
We traverse more windowless corridors, the floor sloping downwards, and pass many doors, but there aren’t any people in sight. That doesn’t stop their hushed whispers from floating past us.
“Who are they?”
“Shh, get away from the door. Mama said we aren’t supposed to . . .”
“They’re suns-kissed!” A gasp. “They’ve been outside!”
An angry hiss. “The suns-damned Hunter should’ve been put down . . .”
On and on, the whispers continue.
Someone remarks on my cuffs, calling them shadestone. I’ve never heard of the material before but given my education—or lack thereof—about most things in this world, that isn’t surprising.
Another person calls on Agatho, the god of protection and nobility, to shield from the Blessed.
From me.
I stumble again, and it’s only thanks to Gabriel’s quick reflexes that I don’t fall flat on my face. There’s no doubt that I’m the one they’re referring to. After all, both the seer and King Andreas used the term when speaking about me.
They’re wrong, though.
I don’t feel Blessed. If anything, I’m fairly certain I’m cursed. I realize these people don’t know who I am, but it’s fucking laughable that anyone would fear me. I don’t want to hurt anyone—I never have.
I just want to live.
It’s this damned swirl on my forehead. Once again, this Mark is the root of all my problems, and I can’t get rid of it.
Eventually, the captain stops. He removes a lantern from a hook on the wall, withdraws a key from his pocket, and unlocks the door.
“This is your room,” Alaric says, turning the knob. The guards shift, coming to stand at our backs.
“Mine?” I peer around the captain to look inside.
Based on what I can see, the space is definitely bigger than the cell. It’s sparsely furnished, but there’s a bed, which is a step up from my previous accommodations.
“Not just yours.” Alaric’s eyes flick between Gabriel and me. “It’s for both of you.”
Oh.
Well.
That’s . . . not as great.
Especially since, as far as I can tell, the bed shoved against the wall is the only one in the windowless room.
A flickering lamp rests on the solitary bedside table, and the walls appear to be made of the same red-speckled stone as everything else.
There’s a small dresser, and sitting on top are two piles of clean clothes.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, the captain gestures inside. “We retrieved your possessions from your horse, who is being housed in our stables. You don’t have your weapons, for obvious reasons, but we’ve returned everything else.”
“Are we prisoners?” Gabriel asks.
That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?
There’s a heavy pause as the captain glances at the other guards. “You may consider yourselves . . . guests,” he says evasively.
Guests who require an eight-guard escort? No. But at least this room is better than a cell.
I glance at Gabriel, my gut writhing. He’s paler than before, clutching his injured arm to his chest. His breaths are shallow, and he needs my help. There’s no time to worry about our sleeping arrangements.
“Fine. We’ll take it,” I say. As if we have a choice.
Besides, this can’t be as bad as our stay at The Ivory Spoon. Maybe there’s more to the space that we can’t see from the hallway.
I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.
This room situation is bad. Worse, honestly, than our sleeping arrangements at the inn, because I don’t think we will be moved tomorrow.
The only positive about these quarters is the attached bathing chamber, which I’m delighted to discover has a small sink equipped with warm running water.
I take care of my personal needs quickly, washing and drying my hands on a small towel before filling a wooden basin with water.
Picking up a bar of soap and a washcloth, I hurry back into the bedchamber.
“Sit down, Gabe.” I direct him to a rickety stool that looks like it’s one wrong move away from collapsing. Seating options are limited, though, so it’s better than nothing.
He obeys, his eyes tracking me as I deposit my items beside him before finding the jar of blessed salve from our things and returning to his side. I chew on my lip, eyeing him carefully. He’s covered in so many injuries, I hardly know where to start.
“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
He nods, grimacing.
“Because they thought we were spies?” I heard two of the guards whispering about it on our walk here.
There’s a long pause, and then he dips his head. There’s something about the action—equally tired and resigned, that has my mind whirling. It’s almost as if . . .
A sickening feeling swirls in my stomach, dread and confusion intermingling.
“Gabriel.” I crouch in front of him, my brows furrowing. “Did you know they would treat you like this?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then he says, “I knew it was a possibility.”
This man. I catalog his many injuries and try to sort through all this in my mind.
“But you still brought me here.”
His eyes meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat. The way he’s looking at me, with tenderness and care, has my stomach flipping.
“Yes. And I would do it again.”
That’s . . .
A lot.
Too much to parse through right now. This train of thought is overwhelming, and it’s making me feel things that I’m not sure what to do with. But healing is something I can do, something I’m skilled at.
I wet my cloth, focusing on keeping my breath steady. Being in such close proximity to him has my pulse rushing, and I gently wipe at the grime on his face. He winces when I dab at a cut on his cheek but doesn’t pull away.