can return his reverent kisses, run my fingers through the dark waves of his hair. His grin is wicked as he kisses the inside of my knee.
“Andrés,” I whisper.
I may know little else, in the chaos of this world. But I know this for sure, something I couldn’t put into words until now. I love this boy and I would do anything to keep him safe. I’ll face my past if I have to. When Dez pushes one of my knees aside, I am sure we are bonded together by more than blood and loss. We are as inevitable as the dawn.
Chapter 7
Dez falls asleep nestled against my chest, his tunic and pants rolled under my head as a pillow. I thread my fingers around his soft black curls. He mutters and moans in his sleep. I wonder what he’s dreaming about. My body is wide-awake even though I’m perfectly at ease. Were we reckless? No, because we both drink the tea all spies in our rank take if they want to prevent pregnancy. But now I’m left wondering what comes next. Sharing your fears with someone else changes things. At some point today the other units will arrive and we will have to be soldiers. That’s the only way we can get through it all and make a better world together.
I trust you, he said. Since leaving Esmeraldas he’s been different in a way I can’t explain. Is it my own nerves that I’m projecting? I dig for the token he gave me. Affection. Presents. Dez has always given me these things. But tonight, it almost feels like he was trying to fit a lifetime of love into a few moments. Maybe in his heart he doesn’t believe we’re going to survive the attack on the capital.
The thought needles at me as I turn the copper coin in my fingers. I think of the moment the prince ripped it from Dez’s chest. A terrible shiver puckers the skin of my arms when I remember the cold edge of the prince’s blade. Dez almost died, but he didn’t leave that balcony without his family heirloom. I trace my thumb over the stamp. Who was the woman minted on one side? Only the Fajardo men grace the kingdom’s currency. I don’t wear it. That feels like the kind of promise we shouldn’t make until after. . . . I pocket the coin and try to let sleep take me.
Despite the calm of the forest just before dawn, the running river, and the steady beat of his heart, Dez’s sleep is fitful. He moans again, turning away from me and onto his back. His features are softened by the pale early morning light, but when I press my palm to his chest, I feel the thrum of his heart, the way his muscles jerk as if he’s trapped in a nightmare.
Back in ángeles, the nights are often filled with recruits’ sobs as they relive memories of sorrow and death in their dreams. The cloisters we use as a stronghold are drafty, and the sounds carry through their long halls. Sometimes, I’d listen to those sounds all night, and in the morning I’d know to expect poor souls asking me to take away the moment that haunts them. Often, I’d do it out of a sense of duty or a desire to be liked. Perhaps if I steal the memories I helped create, I’ll be absolved of my past. Perhaps if I crowd my thoughts with so many strangers, I’ll forget my own damage. But it doesn’t help, so I’ve started to say no, and they leave cursing my name.
I give Dez a shake to wake him from whatever has him so fitful, but he chokes on air. He mutters words I can’t make out and then whimpers. I know that terrible feeling of being trapped in your own mind, as if you’re being suffocated from within.
I know you, Dez told me. I trust you.
I brush my fingers along his face, so familiar that I don’t need the sun to break over us to see where I’m going. I want to soothe him the way being around him makes me feel more at ease. I press my fingertips to his temple.
The connection is instant, the way it always is when a person is unconscious. A rush of emotion hits my chest that comes with being in a different mind, the blinding light and sting that spreads from my fingertips to my skull.
But what