For a moment, it’s the only sound she hears. Then all at once, as if time catches up to her, noise fills the small cavern. The rush of the waterfall into the pool, the crunch of gravel underneath boots as her party rushes forward, Kain’s shout—or maybe Morgana’s—as they realize that she’s okay.
Loren’s sweet, unguarded smile is soon replaced with an uncharacteristically sober expression as he holds his palms up defensively. “I know what you’re going to say, but listen, I swear that was part of the spell. The exchange of breath is a crucial element in the process of resurrection, and—”
She silences him. Reaching upward, she curls a fist in his waves of red hair and pulls him down until his lips meet hers again. There’s a surprised noise in the back of his throat that swiftly dissolves into a deeply satisfied chuckle. Jaylie kisses him hungrily, chasing the rush of every sensation that floods her body—every reminder there is blood racing through her veins, breath caught in her mouth, a heart fluttering against her ribs. It’s a kiss to remind her that she’s alive.I’m here,she gasps to herself.I’m here!
It’s the laughter that finally makes her pull away. She can’t contain the way it bubbles up out of her in a stunned, wondrous cloud. “Goddess,” she exclaims, unable to tear her eyes away from Loren. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you,thank you.” She punctuates each statement with a kiss.
Then, “What the fuck happened?”
“You died,” Morgana chirps helpfully as she pretends to wipe dust out of her watering eyes. “Spectacularly. The beholder turned you to stone, rammed forward in one big rush, and—” She splays her fingers wide and throws her hands above her head in a bursting motion.
“But you brought me back.” Jaylie’s gaze searches the face of each party member, landing last on Loren. His expression softens at the same moment that hers hardens quizzically, and she tilts her head. “You don’t have access to that kind of magic,” she says slowly. And then, uncertainly: “Do you?”
“What can I say? Sometimes the music just…comes to me.” He smiles winningly. “What, do you wish I hadn’t brought you back?” His words are teasing, but Jaylie notices a twinge of tension in his tone, like a lute string tuned too sharp.
“Of course not.” She lets out another laugh, marveling at how it feels to have the air move through her lungs. She will never take the sensation for granted again. “I just don’t know why you lot bother to have me around if you’ve got that kind of magic in your repertoire. You’ll have me replaced in no time.”
Kain, who up until this point had been sitting in the shadows, leans forward from his perch on a boulder. A muscle feathers down the length of his jaw. “You heal with much more reliability than the bard does.” His tone is flat. Factual. His gaze cuts toward Loren, made all the more unnerving by his pupilless black eyes.
Loren rolls one shoulder in a shrug with forced nonchalance. “I always keep a few tricks up my sleeve. For emergencies.”
Kain nods his head heavily, seemingly weighed down by his great horns.
Morgana crouches near the embers of a dying fire, covering it with sand. Jaylie’s gaze swings toward them, bewildered. “Were you thinking of making camp?Here?”
“We considered it,” Loren answers quickly as he stands, bracing his hands on his knees before straightening. He offers Jaylie a hand up. “But on second thought, I think we would like nothing better than to get out of this place.”
Jaylie takes his hand and rises. Though she wants nothing more than to sprint headlong out of the cave and back into the sunlight, she pauses and looks around. “The orb,” she says. “Did we get it?”
“You bet we did.” Morgana hefts up the beholder’s eye. Her arms barely reach around its total circumference. Strangely enough, it’s hardened and crystallized, reminiscent of the chunks of quartz in the cavern’s walls. Somehow they’re dimmer now, but the orb glows with the same sickly green light.
Jaylie nods. “Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter
Twenty
“Hey, you.”
The words are a low rumble in Noah’s broad chest, a playful greeting as he eases the glass door open with his shoulder and welcomes me back into Alchemist on Monday morning.
Even as a part of me melts to see his crooked smile, I’m careful not to let our fingertips brush as I hand over his latte. “Morning, Noah.” I’m worried the contact would ignite the sparks of anxiety crawling under my skin.
It’s the first time we’ve spoken since yesterday’s game.
There’s a sense of expectation that buzzes inside my skull, a tension that has my head spinning and my heart punching inside my chest. Truthfully, I’d wanted to see Noah—alone—immediately after our game, but the girls had stuck around to gush about the session’s events, and Noah ran off to work after an unnervingly quick goodbye. He’d stressed to us that Dan was keeping him busy with all sorts of ideas for events to host at Alchemist, hoping to entice new customers, and his eyes had grown big and apologetic when he’d caught my gaze on the way out the door.
It had almost been enough to convince me that my semi-confession hadn’t scared him away.
Almost.
But now he comes to stand at my side, hands on his hips and face tilted up toward the wall. “Today’s the day, isn’t it?”
“Today’s the day.”
As I stare up at the looming expanse of brick, dusty with lines of chalk, a sense of calm focus soothes some of my nerves. It’s just me and a blank canvas.
Today, I start painting.
