Page 180 of Harbinger

Laid before us like the gift in my hand.

“Open your present,” he says, a dark current running under the words this time. “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

The rasp in his voice tells me that we’re not talking about the present in my hands or our relationship, but a need that’s more immediate. This desperate, raw connection we share that’s begging to reignite. It’s getting harder to keep it at bay, even in the frosted garden with a hundred people inside waiting for attention.

My fingers tremble as I pluck the bow, not quite sure what to expect. Under the paper is a simple box, and when I lift the lid, I gasp.

Tears blur my vision as I stare at a piece of myself I thought was gone forever.

My mother’s locket.

It’s been reshaped by someone with expert hands. I can see the work in it. The hours. The patience. All for something that held no value to anyone but me.

My eyes fly up to find him watching me. “How? I threw it away.”

Before any of this happened. Before the Stars marked me. Before he chose to save me.

“It seemed like it mattered to you,” he says softly.

My longing eases into a hunger that doesn’t feel like it might consume me but rather carry me.

Because he is my safe space.

He always will be, and, it seems, always has been.

“Let me.” He lifts it from the box, and I turn, sucking in a jagged breath. Bishop tucks an escaped curl back in place, his finger pausing for a moment at the nape of my neck before he drapes the locket across my throat. The clasp clicks softly, but his hand lingers for a beat too long. “This dress …”

Two words. That’s all it takes for me to picture it on the floor beside his bed.

I swallow and turn back around, touching the metal at my throat.

Bishop takes the empty box, pocketing it like it matters, and nods. “Look inside.”

My fingers tremble as I unlatch it. He’s had that fixed, too, and nestled inside … a small likeness of Kieren.

“Oh.” It comes out on a broken breath.

“So he’s always with you,” he murmurs.

Bishop isn’t trying to replace what I lost. He’s protecting what’s left.

And I’ve been holding the line between us, trying to pretend I can control what’s happening.

Except I can’t.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper is nearly lost in the night air, but he tenses. My throat tightens as the words try to find their way out. “I was scared. Scared that the Stars marked me to be the thing that destroys you.”

I want it to sound silly. I want him to laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Never explain your heart to me.” He cups my chin, pinning his gaze to mine like he needs me to hear this as much as he needs to say it. “I see you. I’ve always seen you, Arden. I think I know your soul better than my own.”

The words strip me down until the truth of it is too exposed to deny, and a single tear leaks out of the corner of my eye.

He brushes it away with his thumb. “Happy or sad?”

“Both,” I admit. Because on the cusp of this Threshold, I don’t want to put up any more walls between us. I want to tear them down. I cover his hand with mine, grasping it so I can pull him forward.

I take a step, then another, towing him toward the house.