NINETEEN
I WAS STUNNED FOR A few seconds, shadowing without knowing it, hearing only the ringing in my ears from the explosion. When my head cleared, I realized the noise I heard was not an echo—the clang of metal on metal sounded loud and sharp.
“This day is never going to end, is it?” a familiar male voice said in deep resignation next to me. “The world is not going to be content until it bashes in my poor head once and for all. Ow. Oh, ow.”
I yanked a brocade chair off the once-again-prone form of Savian, yelling as I got to my feet, “Gabriel!”
“I like that. I’m right here, with my ribs crushed in, and my spleen ventilated, and bits of my brains hanging out, and she is worried about her immortal boyfriend. Did I say ‘ow’? Because seriously, ow.”
“If you can complain, you’re fine,”
