The implications are fascinating. Two souls sharing space, but unable to manifest simultaneously without risking structural damage to reality itself. No wonder the barrier reacted to Gwenivere's exhaustion—she's literally holding dimensional space together through will alone.
Gabriel's attention fixes on Cassius with unnerving intensity. "Why are you so interested in my existence? I'm a nobody."
The casual self-deprecation hits wrong. This is the Crown Prince of the Infernal Academy, heir to power that makes kingdoms kneel. Yet he dismisses himself as nothing?
"You're her brother," I interject firmly. "You're not a nobody. Whatever circumstances occurred that resulted in you two ending up in one body—that's made this predicament, but it doesn't diminish your value."
Gabriel's gaze shifts to me, and his expression carries something between amusement and disdain.
"You're a puppy dog."
The insult lands with surprising effectiveness. I can feel myself sulking before I can stop the reaction. Centuries of vampire dignity, reduced to pouting by a six-year-old's dismissal.
"At least be nice," Nikolai groans. "You realize we're bonded to your sister, right?"
Gabriel's shrug carries volumes. "Sadly."
A thought strikes me suddenly—one of those revelations that seems obvious only after it arrives.
"But doesn't that mean you're bonded to us? Because you share a body?"
Gabriel's frown is immediate and deep. He shakes his head slowly, and something in his expression suggests this touches on a larger issue.
"I only have one mark."
The synchronized "Huh?" from Cassius, Nikolai, and myself would be comical in other circumstances.
Zeke leans forward, interest clearly piqued. "Elaborate, please. If you're truly connected to Gwenivere in one body, you should have all the markings—neck, chest, and wrist."
Gabriel's frown deepens. He looks at his wrist, and we can all see the absence there. Nothing marks the pale skin. His hand rises to his neck—again, nothing visible.
Which means...
"Do you have a mark on your chest?" I ask, pieces clicking together with uncomfortable implications.
Gabriel's silence speaks volumes. His eyes pause on Nikolai, narrowing into a pout that would be adorable if not for the ancient calculation behind it. Without warning, he announces, "Rest and stop being so slow. You're slowing down this trial and time is ticking."
He vanishes between one blink and the next, leaving us to process this revelation.
We exchange meaningful looks before our collective gaze settles on Nikolai. The Fae prince pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture of profound exasperation.
"This can't be. I can't be bonded to him only. It wouldn't be possible." He pauses, considering. "Besides, I'll be honest—I don't think Gabriel is into men."
"I kind of agree," Cassius admits, his tone thoughtful rather than dismissive. "His entire demeanor suggests otherwise."
I cross my arms, mind racing through possibilities. "We don't really know anything about him. The 'male' Gabriel we encountered was Gwenivere in control. She's obviously open to either—she doesn't let gender dictate her love in either state. But Gabriel is his own entity entirely."
Mortimer nods slowly. "The complication is that bond marks don't form without 100% compatibility. The magic is absolute in that regard."
We're deep in contemplation when a small explosion of darkness appears nearby, followed immediately by?—
"GREE!"
"Grim?" I question in surprise, watching the miniature reaper float before us with his tiny scythe. He looks exactly as I remember—skull face somehow expressive despite lacking features, darkness trailing from his small form like smoke.
Zeke's reaction is immediate and predictable. He moves closer with predatory interest, studying Grim like a particularly fascinating toy. His hand rises, fingers curved in classic paw-strike position.
Grim floats higher to avoid the attempted batting, which draws snickers from our group. Even in this tense situation, watching Zeke's feline instincts override his human control provides moment of levity.
