Page 30 of Bloom in Darkness

The morning air does nothing to settle me. My skin feels too warm beneath my clothes, my hands won’t stay still, and the Bloom I used before my last set has worn down into that ugly place where I’m not floaty anymore but the jitter is already working its way back into my hands. I consider stopping long enough to rub more into my thighs, then picture Caelan hurt somewhere without me and keep moving toward the Forge. I don’t text Bryn back because he’ll tell me to slow down, and I have no intention of listening.

The Forge is quieter in the mornings, but there are still enough people moving through the back halls that I have to fight the urge to shove past them. One of the morning guards recognizes me and gives me a tired nod, and I barely manage one in return before heading toward Caelan’s office. I hear him swear somewhere inside before I reach the door and push it open without knocking.

He’s halfway across the room with one hand braced against his desk and the other gripping a stack of papers. His hair’s sticking up on one side, his shirt is buttoned wrong near the bottom, and he’s very obviously keeping most of his weight off his left leg while pretending that limp is completely normal.

I stop dead in the doorway when I see the swelling around his knee, the wrap beneath his shorts visible before I even manage to look at his face.

Caelan looks up, starting to smile until he sees me. “Oh.” He glances once toward Bryn like he already knows exactly why I’m here. “Good morning.”

“What happened?” My voice comes out rough after a full night of work, and I hear the panic under it even though I’m trying not to let him. “Why are you walking like that?”

“I had a fight.” Caelan reaches for the coffee on his desk like that sentence should explain everything, then pauses when I keep staring at him. “In the ring. There was an issue, and I handled it.”

My bag slides off my shoulder and lands near the door. “You got into a ring with somebody while you already had a bad leg?”

Caelan’s mouth twitches despite himself. “It’s an old injury. It’s nothing.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I cross the room and stop close enough to see the faint bruising beginning above the wrap. “Did you break it?”

“No, and I didn’t dislocate anything either.” Caelan sets his coffee down and reaches toward me, but his hand drops when I keep staring at the injury. “I irritated an old knee injury, which is considerably less dramatic than whatever Bryn apparently implied.”

A low growl comes from the back of the room, and I spin toward it. Bryn sits at the smaller worktable near the wall with a tablet in one hand and a mug in the other. He hasn’t touched the screen since I came in, and his eyes track Caelan every time he shifts his weight.

I point at Caelan without taking my eyes off Bryn. “You told me he was fine.”

“He’s fine,” Bryn says, though the growl under the words makes me look at him more closely.

“Then why is he up?”

Bryn’s mouth flattens as he sets the tablet down. “Ask him. I’d strap him to a chair, but he’d hurt himself getting out of it.”

Caelan turns toward him slowly. “Excuse me? It’s sore. I’m not dying.”

He reaches for his coffee again, but Bryn is already pushing to his feet. Caelan throws up one hand before he gets any closer. “Don’t you dare pick me up again.”

Bryn stops without sitting back down. “Then sit.”

“I can’t sit down all day. Injuries happen.”

“God, you’re stubborn.” I look between the two of them, Bryn standing there like he’s two seconds from physically putting Caelan back in the chair while Caelan looks determined to make him do it. “He hates seeing you hurt, you know.”

Caelan looks at me, and I point at Bryn before he can pretend he has no idea what I mean. “I hate it too. I’ve been here five minutes, and every time you wince, he looks like he wants to fight the furniture.”

“I do not,” Bryn says at the exact same time Caelan says, “He does not.”

I stare at both of them for a second before catching Caelan’s wrist when he starts to argue again. “That was adorable. Now come here and sit down.”

He looks down at my hand, then back at me. “Where are we going?”

I don’t answer. I let go of him and scan the office instead. The couch has a folded throw and a few cushions, Caelan’s coat is draped over his desk chair, and Bryn’s hoodie hangs from a hook near the door.

I grab the blanket, carry it to the corner beside the couch, and spread it over the floor while Caelan watches me with increasing confusion. I pull two cushions off the couch and stack them against the wall, but the floor still feels too hard and exposed, so I steal the cushions from one of the chairs too.

“Astra?” Caelan asks while I rearrange the pile, then looks toward Bryn when I ignore him. “What is he doing? Because I’m fairly sure I’ve lost control of my own office.”

“Let him,” Bryn says without looking up from his tablet.

I glare over my shoulder at both of them. “I’m standing right here.” Bryn meets my eyes for a second, then looks back down at his tablet.