From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

of the tunnels, was this huge cavern filled with the bluest, bubbling, warm
water I’d ever seen.”
“Like a hot spring?” Hushed conversations drifted out from the areas
full of shadows, quieting as we passed byy.
“Yes, and no. The water back home… There’s reallyy no comparison.”
“Where are—?” Glancing down a path where I heard soft sounds, I
swallowed hard and quicklyy looked awayy. I became even more aware of
the feeling of his hand against mine, the rough calluses on his palms, and
the strength in his grip. I thought about that heavyy, spicyy, and smokyy
sensation I’d felt from him earlier. “Where…where are yyou from?”
“A little village I’m sure yyou’ve never heard of,” he said, squeezing
myy hand. “We’d sneak off to the cavern everyy chance we got. The three of
us. It was like our own little world, and at the time, there were a lot of
things happening—things that were too adult and grown-up for us to
understand then.” His voice had taken on a far-off qualityy as if he were in
a different space and time. “We needed that escape, where we could go and
not worryy about what could be stressing our parents, and fretting over all
the whispered conversations we didn’t quite understand. We knew enough
to know theyy were a harbinger of something bad. It was our haven.” He
stopped and looked down at me. “Much like this garden was yyours.”
The veiled Maiden fountain was onlyy a few feet from us, the sound of
trickling water surrounding us. “I lost both of them,” he said, his eyyes
shadowed, but his gaze no less powerful. “Myy brother when we were
yyounger, and then myy best friend a few yyears after that. The place that was
once filled with happiness and adventure had turned into a graveyyard of
memories. I couldn’t even think about going back there without them. It
was like the place became haunted.”
I didn’t need to open myy senses to know that the pain was festering in
him, and it wasn’t exactlyy a good idea to use myy abilityy twice on him,
especiallyy when it was evolving. But through our connected hands, I
dwelled on the all-too-shallow well of happyy thoughts and let it brieflyy
flow through him.
I felt his hand tremble slightlyy, and then I spoke, hoping to distract
him. “I understand. I keep looking around, thinking that the garden should
look different. Assuming there’d be a visible change to represent how it
now feels to me.”
Hawke cleared his throat. “But it is the same, isn’t it?”