Page 36 of Unveiled

Connor took a step toward Adrian without thinking. The tug between them tightened, warm and insistent. Adrian’s breath caught.

Connor stopped abruptly, as if he’d walked into an invisible wall. His eyes widened, not with fear this time, but with shock. He’d felt the same thing and couldn’t deny it.

Morrigan watched them, and with the casualness of a man discussing the weather, he said, “You asked about consequences.”

Connor rasped, “We didn’t ask.”

“You’re asking with your bodies,” Morrigan replied. “The binding does three things, if it’s allowed to complete.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Allowed.”

Morrigan held up one finger. “First, it makes you aware. You’ll feel each other’s proximity. Not always. Not constantly. But when it matters.”

Connor’s mouth twisted. “That’s ridiculous.”

Adrian showed no emotion, but Connor heard him gulp.

Morrigan held up a second finger. “Second, it makes you responsive. Emotion bleeds across. Not thoughts. Not words. But the shape of feeling. Fear. Calm. Rage. Relief.”

Connor’s gaze snapped to Adrian, suspicion flaring. Adrian’s face was blank.

Morrigan lifted a third finger. “Third, it makes you inevitable.”

Connor went very still. “Explain.”

Morrigan’s smile was small. “It doesn’t force love. Don’t look at me like that. It forces collision. It brings you into the same rooms. The same moments. The same choices. It removes the easy exits.”

Connor’s laugh was humourless. “So it’s a trap.”

“It’s a catalyst,” Morrigan corrected. “The binding doesn’t create what isn’t there. It accelerates what is.”

Connor’s eyes were bright with fury. “There’s nothing there.” He saw Adrian’s hand clench.

Morrigan didn’t argue. He simply looked at Connor as if he was insisting he wasn’t bleeding whilst trying to stem a wound.

“Tell me about the hats,” Adrian stated.

Connor whipped his head around. “What?”

Adrian shrugged casually. “He’s a hatmaker. He mentioned hats. I’d like to know what the hats do.”

Connor stared at him as if Adrian had lost his mind.

Morrigan’s expression brightened, delighted by the pivot. “Ah. Yes. Hats. Much safer topic than destiny.” He moved along the wall, his hands hovering near the displays without touching. “Most people think hats are about hiding. They’re not. Hats are about permission. They tell the world what you’re allowed to be.”

He stopped at a soft, slate-grey cap with a silver seam. “This one is a Listener. Wear it and you can hear what people mean, not what they say.”

Connor snorted. “That can’t be true.”

Morrigan’s eyes flicked to him. “Such a disbeliever despite all you’ve seen and heard in these past few days.”

Adrian’s mouth twitched.

Morrigan hand hovered over on a narrow-brimmed hat with a ribbon the colour of dried blood. “This is a Redoubt. It makes you uninteresting. Not invisible, merely forgettable. People’s gazes slide away from you. Their minds don’t hold you.”

Connor’s gaze sharpened, unwilling interest creeping in. “That’s impossible.”

“Everything’s impossible,” Morrigan said, “until it isn’t.” He pointed to a wide-brimmed hat with a dark velvet band stitched with tiny gold runes. “That one is a Ward. It turns away minor malice. Curses, ill wishes, the kind of spite that sticks to you after you leave a room.”