"Equal claim," he agrees.
Dawn comes too soon.
I wake with his arms around me, his body solid and warm against my back. I feel him already awake, his mind busy with plans and contingencies.
"How long?" I ask.
"Two hours."
Two hours until we face the Collector. Two hours until we try to save Melara or die trying.
I turn in his arms, studying his face. He looks different now. More solid, more real. The edges that used to blur are sharp and defined. The bond has stabilized him completely.
"What?" he asks.
"Memorizing you. In case."
"We'll survive."
"You don't know that."
"I know I'm harder to kill when you're with me. And you're impossible to kill even alone."
"Flattery won't change the odds."
"Not flattery. Observation."
We dress in focused silence. I strap on weapons while he forms armor from shadow. We move in sync now, the bond letting us anticipate each other. When I reach for my knife, he's already shifting to give me space. When he needs to manifest something, I move before he asks.
"This is strange," I say.
"The bond?"
"Knowing where you are without looking. Feeling your intentions before you act."
"Useful for battle."
"Useful for many things."
A knock interrupts. Mikaere enters without waiting for permission, his three remaining arms carrying various weapons.
"The portal is nearly ready," he rumbles. His stone eyes study us both, cataloging the changes. "The bond is complete."
"Yes," Nezavek confirms.
"Good. You'll need it." He sets the weapons down. "Päivi has located the gallery's current position. It's drifting between dimensions, but she can hold it steady for about an hour."
"That's all we'll need," I say. "Either we succeed quickly or we don't succeed at all."
Mikaere nods. "The guardian speaks wisdom."
Guardian. Not bride, not human. Guardian. I feel Nezavek's satisfaction at the title.
We gather in what's left of the great hall. Päivi floats there, her form more scattered than before. Pages orbit around her, some burning, some frozen, some existing in languages that hurt to read. She looks exhausted, if living information can look tired.
"The portal is ready," she says without preamble. "But I can't guarantee your return route. The gallery's defenses might trap you there."
"Then we don't get trapped," I say.
