He forces a close-lipped smile that stops short of being genuine. I haven't seen him in days, not since the Void Queen's attack and definitely not since he discovered the truth. I expected him to come knocking for an answer, but he never showed. Mutes visited Castiel, but not me. Due to that, I expected never to see him look at me again. A common trend lately.

Jerking his thumb back towards the door, he asks, "Can I come in?"

Foolishly, I point my boots to where he stands. "You're, kind of, already in the room."

His warmly colored cheeks blister red, and he tips his chin down, smiling broadly. "I suppose I should think this through next time," he mocks in a soft tone.

As soon as it arrives, his smile fades when he looks up at me. I squint hard at the bags underneath his eyes, the tight frown, the slope of his thin shoulders. "Mutes, are you sleeping all right?"

"Of course." He massages the muscles in the back of his neck and strides closer. "I sleep every night."

That's not a direct answer, and he knows it. One can sleep, but for how many hours at a time? One, two? He doesn't look to receive anything more than that. Since I have seen him last, he's clean-shaven and has combed out the choppy, chocolate brown hair on his head with his fingers. His hair swoops gently to the side, covering his ears and swaying across his forehead like jagged peaks of disarray.

The physical embodiment of him is tired. I wonder if those whispered wonders are true, that Millicent keeps him preoccupied at all hours of the night, underneath the sheets of her bed. My stomach twists.

I sit on the edge of my bed and pull my boot over a wool sock. "What are you doing here?" I ask in the kindest voice I can muster. He stands in front of me, toeing at the rug on the floor. "Did you...are you coming along to visit Castiel?"

"Why did you lie, Marie?"

Mutes raises his head, cocking it to the side. Along with that subtle movement, his soft mouth quirks in what I can only assume to be disappointment. The blade sinking into my heart lodges deep and twists at the hurt in his eyes. I hadn't stopped to consider that, not only did I lie to everyone else, but to him, too. I assume that other Luminaries won't take offense. Mutes's handsome face isn't just exhausted. Confusion of our friendship cuts through.

I don't know what to say. His question throws me off. No one else has been this direct with me, and here he waits for an answer I can't give. I lay awake at night, trying to think of an explanation I can give to Cloak, to Aela, to the queen herself. Nothing comes to mind. All of these people have made the brave decision to trust a girl from Gudgeon Village, and I crushed what they gifted me.

When I don't speak, Mutes goes on. "I'm a Luminary, just like you. I understand what you're going through, and you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

A wall of defense shoots up inside my mind. Mutes stands on the other side, pounding to get through. I suddenly realize how fatigued I am. If Mutes sleeps little, I should come to terms with the realization that I receive the same. Most of the night, I toss and turn with nightmares of what I should've done, what Cloak should've done, what the world could've done instead of me. I'm not bitter, but power consumes my ability to keep a clear head.

My shoulders droop involuntarily and curve in on themselves. I feel foolish with one boot on my foot, unlaced and the other with only a scrunched sock. I take a deep breath I didn't realize I had been holding in. "I believe I have had enough talk of trust," I mutter. "And, to no offense, I don't wish to talk about it anymore. If you hate me too, I will advise you to leave now. I am not in the mood for another lecture."

"Hate you?" Mutes laughs softly. "That's impossible, I couldn't hate you, Marie." His quiet steps take him across the rug and he sits on the edge of the bed, at my side, the warmth of his shoulder seeping into mine. "Being a Luminary is a blessing, not a curse like everyone makes out our abilities to be." Mutes's eyes drop to the raven pendant as I look to him. Dark lashes flutter over his cheeks. "I just wish you would've seen me as someone to trust. I thought I was a loyal friend."

"You are," I blurt before that thought settles in his head. He perks up, but the smile he plasters on is still crafted of force. "You must understand, I had to do what was best to protect my life. Millicent isn't—"

"I know," he interrupts and takes my hand to thread my fingers with his.

I look down at our conjoined hands, the press of his fingers into the back of mine, and loosen a sigh. It has been too long since someone offered me reassuring contact that wasn't a quick slip of their arm around my shoulders or a pat on the back of the hand. Both from Theoden. We believe words are enough, but the press of warm contact keeps terrors away.

I hear the weariness in my own voice. "Everything fell apart in a matter of hours. My life is on the line once again, and everyone has moved on. I feel stuck in the same place I was that night."

"I heard what you did was spectacular. Guards raved about you protecting them."

I lean back, arching a brow at his honored smirk. "They did no such thing."

He nods vigorously. "They did. I got to say that I'm your friend and that I knew of your strengths."

"That's a lie, Mutes. And one that can get you in trouble if the queen discovers you lied to her," I warn.

Mutes shrugs and studies the tapestry hanging on the wall next to my bed, faded. Once, the vibrant greens and browns of the woods stuck out broadly. Time has caused it to fade to a murky brown of dust and age. Compared to the white décor of my chambers, the tapestry is an unwelcome sight to anyone that enters. Gustus swears he'll take it down soon enough when no one is paying attention.

The dangerous silence in the room stretches and expands. The longer I go without words spoken, the easier it is for my mind to wander out of control. Once I have to grapple for hold of any security, I'm already left behind.

Mutes gives my hand a reassuring squeeze that forces my attention back to his soft features. "If the queen had any intention of killing you, she would have done it long ago," he says. Not all Luminaries can read minds, but I wonder if Mutes can. That would put all my embarrassing thoughts about his broad smile on display, and I don't believe I'm ready to face that.

He conveys no sense of enjoyment so I assume he can't listen to what goes on inside my head about his handsome smile. "The queen works in wondrous ways." I snap both of us back to attention. "I trust your friendship; I question that judgment."

"I can speak to her. I have certain ways of...persuasion." His eyes bug out of his head. I don't realize I'm cringing at the thought of them in bed together until his amusement fades, replaced by the sad smile I know he would much rather convey.

I want to wrap my arms around him, to protect him, but that would cross a line Mutes might not be prepared for. Knowing his hand is wrapped in mine is enough to make me want to pull his touch away; I welcome the contact but it isn't the type I'm looking for. Cloak never strayed from casual moments of physical lightness. He fiddled with the cuff of my sleeve to busy his hands while reading or traced small scars. I grew used to that contact, welcomed it. This is different. This draws the line between comfort and closeness, and my stomach isn't quite settled with Mutes's warm palm pressing into mine.

"I'm sorry, Mutes," I stress without thinking about what I'm apologizing for. Words tumble from my mouth without prior consent.

He offers a dismissive wave that does nothing to settle the uneasiness in my stomach. "What could you be apologizing for?"

"You should have more of a life than this. I understand the wealthy districts look down upon everyone they cross, but you're seen as less than what you are. Just because you're...the queen's lover doesn't mean you should be thought of as anything less."

Heat stains his cheeks, the faintest of smiles tugging upward on his lips. Mutes's eyes sweep the floor in front of us. Speaking openly about his profession has only happened once, behind closed doors and minutes before he fell asleep. He had spent an entire day with the queen and just wanted a moment of reprieve, so he dragged himself to my chambers and didn't rise from my sofa once he sat down. As his eyes drifted closed, he muttered something about a change in a long life, an occupation that didn't suck away his soul.

Though I roused his shoulder to wake him from a deep slumber, Mutes turned away and tucked a pillow tighter against his chest. I never asked the question I wanted to ask: What can I do to help?

By the time I woke the next morning, he was gone. An apology note waited on the crinkled pillow he squeezed the life out of, and neither of us spoke of the matter again.

Our situations aren't that different. We acted on impulse and didn't consider the impact of our decisions until their slap across the cheek burned. Imperceptible shackles hang from our wrists and we try to make the most of what we have been given—a second chance—but I don't quite feel the impact of the Raven Queen's mercy until I'm free of this palace. Mutes faces a similar battle. Likely, he'll never leave her side until the moment she bores of him and steals valuable air from his lungs.

"You're kind to everyone you meet," I go on, thrusting my hand out towards the door. "I only wish others gave you the same courtesy."

His chin tips upward and a new light fills his eyes. "Perhaps I have grand purposes. Just like everyone else, I have to bide my time until they come. We all have a moment to shine, mine just hasn't come yet."

Ever the optimist. One of us has to be. I laugh off the idea and drag a hand down my face in hopes of wiping away invisible exhaustion. "At least someone lives in this palace that doesn't hate me," I say, laughing at my incompetence.

To that, Mutes says nothing. An itch to leave crawls up my neck. If I don't scurry from the palace early enough in the morning, Gustus will come find me for another round of shopping in the capital, finishing the day with a too-sweet dessert I can hardly stomach before handing over to Theo. If we're close enough, I bring the rest to Castiel. Unlucky for me, I have never had a sweet tooth but the prince and his husband divulge in nothing else.

Mutes's hold on my hand doesn't lessen. He sits in silence and stares at the floor like he's counting the amount of red roses on the rug in contrast to the twisting vines crawling along the outside. The white fabric is dull and faded, now resembling thick storm clouds—the frayed edges being matching lightning bolts piercing the ground of Rivian.

I clear my throat and scratch at my temple. "We really should—"

"May I see the form that created such a fuss?" he asks fast, words blending into one.

Today is the first day I have felt comfortable in my skin; a familiar fullness has returned to my body after using my abilities in such a grand fashion. From what I did, the Luminary itching to reveal herself to the world has remained idle—sleeping to gain strength and time before she monitors the ticking clock to use all her powers again.

I find refuge and trust waiting in Mutes's anticipated stare. He watches my hairline as if he knows where my magic will blossom first, eyes darting back and forth to my own, to my scalp. I don't bother giving him a straight answer and begin the shift that dissolves my hair's color, bleaching it white. A calm, cold wind rushes through my body and releases through my fingertips, the diffusing of built-up pressure.

Mutes doesn't seem to notice I'm leaking air onto the back of his hand. All his focus trains on following my hair drain to an unnatural color given to Luminaries with a second form. Hours spent in the library with my nose in a book has revealed that not all Luminaries take on a second form, but if they do, they're granted white, silver, or black hair to accommodate the power and help others identify their secret. Some keep their natural hair and only one coil the color magic granted them—easy to hide and all that more difficult for hunters to corner them without a spring of magic igniting into the air.

For some, it's a blessing and a beacon to have others fear their strengths. For others, like me, I can't wait to return to my normal form so the queen doesn't have an excuse to kill me. She'll be reminded of the past if she takes in that Luminary form, and anger stops until adrenaline wavers off.

While Mutes takes in my face, the unnatural shade of my eyes, I whisper, "Everyone hates me because of this. Because of what Wyetta forced onto me."

He seems to flinch at the sound of her name but regains ground fast. "Wyetta wished for you to have more than this. Your power wasn't meant to be a burden," he consoles.

"I know that." My bottom lip juts out in an annoyed pout. "I just wish I had some say in what my body wants to do, and what it has to do. This power is more of a nuisance than our enemies realize."

Confidence bleeds through me. I have another Luminary ally to turn to when my magic arises without warning. Late at night while sleeping or while releasing the buildup—I'll have another Luminary there to help me through. Possibly, someone that will give me more advice on what it takes to be a true Luminary. Mutes would never offer anything less.

"Tell you what—once I speak to the queen about your life and convince her that under no order must she take it, we'll go to Farm and celebrate," Mutes offers.

I arch a brow at him. "Why would we go to Farm?"

"For Ambihum," he replies simply. "Don't you wish to celebrate?"

I slap my palm against my forehead. "Of course. I completely forgot about that holiday. I haven't participated since..." My voice trails off as I search for the right year. I remember Flower Foothills faintly, the prick of flower stems clutched in my hand as I tried to find Castiel.

"Since your parents took you?" Mutes asks.

I nod. That had to be the last time; we were children and my parents had time to take us to Flower Foothills to celebrate spring's arrival. Farm's only holiday brings the entire sector together to celebrate the ground's newfound fertility—and that of our people. Everyone participates. Men, women, children. We uproot flowers from the ripe earth and make a bouquet to give to the person we love most.

My father always searched for the largest, most colorful flowers of them all for my mother. He ran around, disappearing over hillsides until his head bobbed over the top. Often times, he beat small children that received a head start and gathered what he could. Skipping back to my mother was always a sight to behold; she giggled and covered her mouth to hide the red stain of her cheeks.

The bouquets I gathered always went to Castiel, even if his went to the neighbor's dog. I never minded. As I grew older and trade flourished, we stopped wasting a day to celebrate spring's arrival and spent long hours cleaning the docks and preparing for shipments overseas to Hasteaston and other gathering allies for the queen.

How nice it would be to spend one day away from the palace, in a place close enough to home I can smell salted fish drifting from the southern waters.

I sigh, relaxing my shoulders. "We'll go together," I declare. Mutes's eyes brighten. "Now I'll have something to look forward to."