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“It’s so radiant.”

The smell of her incenses me. She is a hillside of honeysuckle, a garden full of roses, and the acridness of my hopes and dreams I had so many months ago, burning. There’s a bookshelf in the room. I put some distance between us and trail a finger along the spines. “Like any of these?”

“That one was my plan for tonight, actually.” She pulls a book by Dickens with a tattered spine.

“Oliver Twist. How fitting.”

We share a laugh. I rock back and forth on my heels, unsure what to do with the silence.

“You can stay here if you want.” That is somehow the worst and most intoxicating idea she’s ever had. I have to keep my head on straight with Quell. But every moment I’m with her, I only want to be with her more.

“I’ll get my own room.” I leave before she can protest.

The lobby of the inn is silent, but before I can even get my question out the concierge says, “I’m sorry, sir. If you need a room, we’re all booked for the night.” He smiles timidly, and I can sense his stress. “I must be getting back to an urgent matter, if there’s not anything else.”

I drag myself back to Quell’s room. This isn’t a good idea. She opens the door dressed for bed in an oversized tee. My oversized tee. She allows me inside, and I stand there with my hands in my pockets. She clears the decorative pillows off the bed.

“I don’t want to sleep in the same bed any more than you,” she says. “But we have to rest.”

“I know. I know.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“It won’t be weird. Why would it be weird?”

“Well, you’re acting as if—”

Fire crackles in the fireplace, and a silence settles between us.

“Never mind.” She pulls the outer and under covers off the bed and hands me one. “Tomorrow there could be a flare. We have to be ready.”

“You’re right. Beaulah always seems two steps ahead.”

She smiles darkly. “Not after tonight.”

Shame burns my cheeks, but I can’t help but smile back. I join her at the bed, on the opposite side. “Ladies first.”

She rolls her eyes and slides into her covers. I take off my shirt and catch her staring. She promptly looks away. I get in beside her, keeping a wall of blankets between us. I stare straight up at the ceiling and keep my hands clasped across my chest so there’s no chance I can touch her by accident. I’m about to close my eyes when she clears her throat.

My heart twinges, fluttering with nervousness. But it’s not mine. It’s hers.

“Relax,” I say.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up!”

A smile tugs at my lips, and I can hear the mirth between her words.

“Are you asleep?”

“Quell, it’s been ten seconds.”

“Okay, good.” She rolls on her side and faces me, propping her head on her elbow. “I was thinking. I never said thank you earlier. So, thank you.” She pushes her diadem through her head, and I’ve never seen it so close. It’s a rich ebony metal. Intricate details coil around sharp spires ornamented with radiant dark-pink stones. Clusters of them sparkle like a thousand stars.

I shift uncomfortably.