I’ve read it a few times to be sure of the time and place, and maybe to study the quickness of his pen strokes, the way the first line of the V is hard and the second, upward stroke is light and curves at the end.
My cheeks heat at the thought of our last meeting, how I’d spoken so honestly about my feelings for Nico and how he’d given me the space I needed. I’m suddenly the tiniest bit light headed, a bit queasy, my nerves on edge. The walk to the garden from my room doesn’t help at all. I’d hoped I would calm down, but I’m more and more anxious with each step.
What if Dorian decides he could never compete with my feelings for Nico, our long history?
I mean, I get it. What Nico and I shared … it’d be impossible to duplicate. I’d never want to. Sure, it’d be a hard relationship to follow, but I’m not looking to re-create what I had with Nico with Dorian. That would be wrong. Ungenuine.
Hell, I’m not even sure where my emotions for Nico stand, where my budding feelings for Dorian begin and end.
Dorian and me …
Is it even a possibility? We’re great in so many ways but also not.
I breathe deep. Dorian and I have had to learn to trust each other, we’ve trained and been on missions, he was there after Poppy died.
It’s true I haven’t known him as long as Nico, but there’s still a solid foundation there. If Dorian and I decided being more than friends was too hard, we’d still have that.
I hope.
And it’s no secret we’ve both felt it. Both been witness to silent moments alone in close quarters when our hearts quickened. When the brush of a hand sent warmth up into our faces.
But what if …
I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to stop because I’m quickly tumbling down an endless hole of what-if.
Go with your gut, Veda. It’s all you can do. Wait, listen. Then act on what feels right. Simple.
When I’m one turn of the tunnel away from the garden door, my palms are sweaty and my heart’s pulsing much too fast for the rate I’ve been walking. Not quite so simple.
It’s just Dorian, I remind myself.
Then, of course, It’s Dorian, slaps me right back.
When I come around the corner, Dorian’s there. Hands shoved in his pockets, when he notices me walking toward him, he pulls one hand free and waves.
I smile. My stomach buzzes with a mix of wasps and butterflies.
He pulls his hourglass from under his shirt. “I thought you’d stood me up.”
“Well, your note wasn’t exactly brimming with details—it only said, ‘after dinner.’” I shrug.
He nods, catching my eye, a grin dancing at the corners of his lips.
“So…?” I ask. Begging myself to please be normal. Act normal.
“Oh, right. Do you have some time to spare?”
“I do.”
“Good.” He frees one hand from his pocket like he’s going to offer it, but quickly changes course and points ahead instead. “Come with me?”
I shove my own hands into my pockets because I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell to do with them. “Okay…” I drag the word out, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“What?” He knits his brow. “You’re not worried, are you?”
“Well…” I smile. “You do have a sordid past.”
“Ah…,” he says, nodding. “True … True … If it helps, it’s nothing dangerous or to do with rocks or birds.”
“In that case…” I take a step forward so I’m right next to him. “Lead the way.”
Once down a questionable set of stairs, we stop at a dark door leading to an even darker, more precarious stairway leading down to who knows where. “It’s still a good distance walk from here,” Dorian says.
“You realize we’ve already walked a good distance, yes?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t I at least get a hint?”
“Nope. Come on.”
We walk through caves, wind along tunnels, descend a narrow passage, until finally, we’re at a red door.
We stop.
Dorian looks over at me and breathes deep. “First, let me tell you, not a lot of people are allowed down here. You have to promise never to bring anyone here.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
He laughs. “Ready?”
“I am.”
Pulling a ring of keys from his pocket, he finds the correct one and opens the door. We go down a short passageway and reach another door exactly like the first. He opens it.
Before us is a narrow waterfall that flows down over the entire cave entrance like heavy rainfall.
“I’m assuming we’re going to have to walk under that?” I raise my eyebrows, so intrigued I’m ready to jump right through it even if he says no.
He looks me straight in the eyes. “I go to battle in six days … I’d say, a good distraction is in order—you up for it?” But before I can answer, Dorian walks forward, a thin mist splicing off his shoulders and brushing my face with a light spray. It’s cool and refreshing.
“V?” Dorian’s voice is muffled, but his hand peeks through the sheet of water.
Without thinking, I grab his hand, lace my fingers with his, close my eyes, and walk underneath the falls.
It’s warm like bathwater and fresh as day, obviously a part of the springs that run like veins throughout the caves. Once on the other side, I rub the water from my eyes and ring out my hair, but stop short when I take in the cave before us. It’s like one gigantic geode. “Whoa…,” I whisper.
“I knew you’d love it.”
Light flickers and sways throughout the cavern in a shimmery luminescence even though the cave is lit only by a single large lamp in the middle of the floor. But it’s all the light needed.
Surrounding us, floor to ceiling, are crystals. They’re mostly differing shades of blue and green, but there’s a cluster of bright pink here and there, and when I walk up to one, I realize I know it. “Rose quartz?”
Dorian nods.
“I have a small piece of rose quartz that belonged to my mother.”
“It was her favorite, so I’m told. Supposedly, she spent a lot of time down here.”
“I can see why.”
But as I continue taking in the room, something occurs to me. “Does the Sindaco know you brought me here?”
“Not … exactly.”
“First the memorial room and now this…?” I swear his cheeks blush and he grants me that rare genuine smile of his—the one that reaches his eyes. My stomach twirls, the butterflies awakening. Apparently, they’re not too concerned with wait, listen.
We continue walking along the edge of the cavern and I take in the gems. Each is unique, not one having the same points or angles or speckled surface.
When we’ve taken our time walking, noting it’s not only rose quartz here but also citrine, amethyst, and lapis lazuli, we stop about halfway around the circle.
“Some Night members who live double lives like me use the gems for trade,” Dorian explains as he sits on a flat stone.
I nod, sitting down next to him. He looks over at me, his eyes … happy. Less intense than usual. Content.