The Cold Bloom

ROWAN’S POV

Garek’s gone before I finish the word, melting into the crowd after the grey coat, and then it’s just Cruz and the flower lying on the grey stone between us.

I crouch over it.

The impossible cold-blooming thing, white petals edged in pale pink, exactly the same as the one Mateo pressed into my hand a lifetime ago.

“Cruz.” I don’t take my eyes off it. “Bag this. Don’t touch it with your