A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

“The fact that you guys were trapped in a cave for almost a week? Unreal,” she continues, her fingers finding her ponytail. They twirl about in the thick strands, the purple flashing brightly against the dark. I can’t help but wonder if Kellan has touched her hair, if he thought the bright color attractive. More attractive than my plain brown.

Caleb is relentless: Don’t talk to anyone but the Shamans.

But I do. “What do you want?”

She blinks, obviously taken aback by the greeting I offer. “Everyone is really worried about Kellan, about the team. Nobody is telling us anything.”

Kellan’s breathing is steady and deep next to me, his limbs warm against mine.

“What happened out there?” Her fingers twist over, and over, and I can’t help but stare, mesmerized by their deft movements. She’s got beautiful hands. Even her nails are perfectly formed. Has Kellan ever noticed how lovely they are? Mine—mine are crazy big for a girl. I used to get teased all the time when I was little, that they were more like baseball mitts than girl hands. But not Sam—Sam’s hands are lovely enough to model jewelry or nail polish.

It’s utterly ridiculous, but I need Sam and her bright hair and pretty hands to leave. I can’t stand the raw, green shards forming around my heart. Because this girl, this pretty girl, probably knows Kellan better nowadays than I do. My voice is flat when I tell her, “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Her eyes, a light amber, squint in sympathy. “It’s just, it would really set people at ease if they knew—”

Caleb shoves Jonah’s words at me, strong enough that my ears ring: Don’t talk to anyone but the Shamans.

“Please leave.” I close my eyes and turn my head away from her, towards Kellan’s face. His breath hits my skin and my heart beats hard, like I’ve just run a marathon. I don’t say anything more, and the door clicks shut a minute later.

What is going on?

When I wake up, sunlight is streaming through the windows. Jonah’s asleep in a chair next to Kellan’s bed, feet propped up against the mattress.

As if he can feel me awake, Jonah’s eyes open and we study each other, smiling. It’s something we always do when we wake up, and I like it. There’s a familiarity to it that’s comforting. “When’d you get back?”

He stands up and stretches. “A couple hours ago.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s ten a.m., which means Jonah was gone for much longer than a few hours. “Was the meeting worth being out all night?”

He smiles and leans over to kiss me. It’s that same, awkward kiss from the night before. The one that reminds me I’m in bed with his brother. “I think so.”

I promptly get out of the bed. There’s no reason I should be there, now that I’m awake. I whip up a comfy, oversized chair and sink down into it. “Again, I ask: should I be worried?”

“No.” He goes over to the dresser, where a bottle of water sits. He uncaps it and says, “Your job is to get better. My job is to take care of everything else. So—did anyone come by while I was gone?”

I scratch at my scalp. Itchy, itchy, guilty scalp, or so my mother has always claimed. “Um, some girl who works with your brother. Sam?”

A thought comes to me: my mom. Why hasn’t my mom called? Come by? Worse yet, why haven’t I questioned this yet?

The water bottle freezes at Jonah’s lips, mid-drink. All traces of his previous smile disappear from his eyes. The bottle is set back down on the dresser. “When?”

“An hour or so after you left.”

He swears under his breath as he digs out his cell phone. A quick text is sent. “Did you talk to her?” Before I can answer, he adds, “What did she ask?”

I relay the conversation, which sends him into another round of furious texting that lasts until Kate Blackthorn comes in. Kate’s from the Human plane, too; I think she’s around one hundred but looks no older than forty. She’s tall, blonde, and such a sunny, happy person that you’d never guess she spends her life dealing with horrible diseases and viruses. She, alone, has been responsible for some of the worst pandemics on the Human plane in the last seventy years. “How are you two this beautiful morning?” she asks, not surprised in the least to see me in Kellan’s room.

She doesn’t wait for our answers before coming over and checking me out. “Wonderful progress,” she murmurs. “You’ll be able to go home in no time.”

“How long is no time?” I ask, and she laughs, giving Jonah a knowing look.

“Soon enough.” Her smooth hands press against my stomach. “So,” she says to Jonah, “that was quite the showdown. But I’m glad for it—a long time coming, that’s for sure.”

I grab at Jonah’s attention. “Showdown?”

Typical, unexpressive Jonah face slides into place. And, as I could have predicted, he ignores this and focuses on Kate, who has now walked over to the bed and is leaning over Kellan. “He’s doing much better today. I’m quite pleased with his progress.”

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