A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

voice was coming from, I honed in on a young woman standing in the far corner of the room. Long chestnut hair hung in a thick, glossy braid down her back. She isn’t talking to me, I realized.
    Then a second voice yawned in response. A guy’s voice. “Mm-hmm. How long was I asleep?” I tried to see around the woman without moving the muscles below my neck, but that was harder than I’d thought it would be, and I gave up. I could just make out a battered snow boot splayed out behind her. Whoever she was talking to was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner. Something about his rough, scratchy voice was familiar. I felt a spasm in my chest.
    “Has anything changed?” His voice was hollow, like he already knew the answer.
    “No,” she said. “And if you want her to get better, you have to let her rest.”
    “I’m not bothering her if I just sit here, am I?”
    “It’s not just her I’m worried about. You need rest, too. How are we supposed to protect her if we’re exhausted? Come on, I just slept. It’s your turn.”
    “But I . . .”
    “You’re not doing her any favors if you fall asleep again. With all that’s coming . . .”
    “I don’t care about what’s coming, Ardith. I care about what happened. If I could just go back to that night—”
    “Asher, listen to me—”
    Asher. At the sound of his name, something silvery and light coursed through my veins. My face felt hot and cold at the same time.
    “You can’t,” the woman said.
    I wished I could sit up and call to him across the room. But my body wasn’t cooperating.
    “I just want her back,” he said quietly, and I was struck by how different he sounded. So serious and somber. I couldn’t detect the smallest hint of the usual sly wink in his voice.
    Thousands of tiny stars pricked across my vision. Something terrible must have happened to me to make Asher this worried. But what?
    “We all do,” the woman said. “We can’t win this without her.”
    “Not because of the fight , Ardith.”
    “I know.” The woman’s shoulders tensed. “Once upon a time someone said that about me. He risked his life to get me back. And look what happened.” Even from my bed in the corner, I could tell these words were full of meaning. I wondered what the story was. They’d clearly known each other for a long time.
    “That was different,” said Asher darkly.
    “It was the same. Passion is our way, but love can drive an angel mad, Asher. It can disrupt the heavens, change the outcome of a war.”
    “Isn’t that the point?” Asher exhaled loudly and kicked his boot out in frustration. He was hundreds of thousands of years old, but he looked and acted just like a seventeen-year-old guy. “I thought we’re all about falling in love and changing the world. Isn’t that what makes us Rebels?”
    “Ordinarily, yes,” she said. “But these are strange and dangerous times. The truce between the Order and the Rebellion ended the minute Astaroth destroyed Oriax. Now we have to look out for ourselves first.”
    “A little hypocritical, isn’t it?” He snorted.
    Ardith stared at him. “Maybe,” she said. “But there are repercussions now that we couldn’t have known. We’re not the Gifted. We can’t divine fate.”
    “I won’t let go of her,” Asher said, his voice hard. “When she wakes up, she’ll join the Rebellion. You’ll see. She’ll help us.”
    “Yes,” she said. “In the meantime, go to bed. I started a fire down in the fireplace.”
    Asher sighed, dropped his head into his hands. “I hope this works.”
    Ardith placed a hand on his back. “Me too,” she said.
    She moved out of the way then, and I could see him perfectly. I was reminded instantly of the first time I saw him, leaning up against the wall outside of Love the Bean on the night of my birthday. His hair was so dark, his eyes such a magnetic black that he didn’t just look at ease at night—it seemed as if he was a part of it. The moonlight shone on his high cheekbones, and he had a playful, arrogant glint in his eye.
    Now his eyes were sad, serious. There was no hint of moonlight, no cocky challenge. His long-sleeved thermal shirt and jeans looked wrinkled and slept-in, like he’d been wearing them for days. His dark hair had grown a little longer and looked wild, like the worry was causing it to stand on end. Something had changed him.
    Wind rattled the window frame, and I swallowed back a lump of jealousy when Ardith turned around. She was