Page 106 of Our Radiant Embers

I nodded. “Indeed.”

As we walked into Piccadilly Square, neon signs bled jewel reflections onto the pavement. People clustered on the steps of the fountain at its centre, the murmur of conversations mixing with an early taste of summer dust in the air.

“Hey,” I said into the distant hum of London’s night-time traffic. “Just in case you were wondering? I meant it. My note, that is. You really are worth it.”

Adam inhaled as though to say something, our gazes catching in the shifting hues of an airline ad that promised the world was ours. Hardly.

“I just hope…” He looked away and shook his head, didn’t finish the thought. Once we turned onto Coventry Street and the neon screens lay behind us, the vibe merged into something more subdued and intimate, restaurants and shop windows lit in gentle warmth.

I was about to prompt him to continue when the back of his hand brushed mine. An accident? I glanced at him, and he sent me a quiet smile in response. Then he loosely hooked our index and middle fingers together, knuckle to knuckle.

Are you sure?

I didn’t ask. Just kept walking by his side, my stupid heart thrumming behind my sternum as though the impossible had suddenly become an option.

* * *

The front desk in the lobby of Adam’s building was deserted, just us and the hush of nightly shadows. We still stuck to our own sides of the lift but came together as soon as we were safe in his flat.

Deja vu. The beginnings of a pattern that I’d signed up for the moment we’d crossed the line.

His fingers rucked up the back of my dress shirt, mine tracing the bumps of his spine before I flattened a palm between his shoulder blades. Our kisses were soft, the afternoon’s urgency absent. Sweet tiredness clung to the ends of my lashes. Our motions slowly tapered out until we were simply breathing together—so very tired even as my brain grasped at these radiant moments to line them up like a string of pearls.

With my forehead tipped against Adam’s temple, I closed my eyes.

He wound an arm around the small of my back. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” My words dripped slow like summer rain. “Just a bit exhausted. Like, still getting used to it, you know? My magic behaving like a hyperactive child, like it’s trying to show me all these random things and expects me to care. I know it’s far off what you can do, but...”

“It’s new.” Adam pressed his nose into my hair. “And it’s all four elements. Which…My father mentioned how—it was a generic conversation, okay? Nothing about you, just about this French family we almost formed an alliance with. Anyway, he said that four elements is normal for a small subset of the French community that draws power from the ley lines.”

“Ley lines?” I echoed. While the topic had come up in school, it had been cited as an example of folklore. Mostly, I remembered them as something like an electrical grid that connected ancient, mystical hotspots in a magical circuit. My thoughts were getting tangled up in my head, though, chasing their own tails like puppies. Something nagged at me—ley lines, connections, landmarks. I couldn’t bring it into focus.

“Can we...” I drew a deep breath, tinged with the faintest trace of Adam’s cologne that mixed with lingering dinner scents—warm comfort that soothed the hectic buzz in my mind. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? The books you mentioned, too.”

“Of course.” Adam’s arm tightened before he loosened his hold and gently nudged me backwards, towards the bathroom. “C’mon, move. Let’s brush our teeth and get some sleep.”

I love you, you know?

The thought spiralled out behind my chest like a stone plunged into water, concentric circles cascading outwards. I kept my eyes closed against the glare of gentle lamplight.

“What are you—five?” Adam sounded sweetly amused, unaware of the rainbow ashes floating through the space behind my lids. “Up and at ‘em, babe. Still got your toothbrush here from last time, so no excuses.”

Last time. The last time I’d stayed over was after I’d seen Adam reduce an entire block of flats to smoke and dust. I was smoke and dust.

“Liam?”

Stop. Breathe. Focus.

I did.

“Yeah, sorry.” I opened my eyes, something about his smile shimmering in the empty space behind my ribs. It’d be fine. “You kept my toothbrush?”

“‘Course I did.”

“Oh.” I nodded, inhaled. “Thank you.”

Adam’s palm skimmed along the outside of my arm. “What for?”

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