I turn my head to look at her. In the darkness, I can just make out the shape of her face, the glitter of her eyes watching me.
"There's not much I wouldn't do if you asked."
"I know." She's quiet for a long moment. "That's part of the problem, isn't it? You'd do anything for me. Including lie. Including drug me. Including make decisions about my body without consulting me."
"Yes."
"At least you're not pretending otherwise."
"I told you I was done apologizing." I keep my voice even. "I meant it. But I'm not going to pretend I wouldn't burn down the world for you. I would. The difference now is that I'd ask first."
Something shifts in the darkness—her moving closer, or maybe just adjusting her position. But when she settles, there's less space between us than there was before.
"Ask first," she repeats. "That's your grand character development? Adding a question mark?"
"It's harder than it sounds."
"I bet it is. Three hundred years of doing whatever you want, and now you have to check with the pregnant omega before making decisions."
"The pregnant omega who could gut me with her bare hands if I piss her off badly enough."
"Don't forget it."
"Never."
Silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. The bond hums with something that might be the beginning of peace.
"Two weeks," she says finally.
"Two weeks."
"I'm going to survive this."
"Yes." I don't let any doubt enter my voice. "You are."
"And then we're going to have this conversation properly. About what comes next. About whether there's anything left to salvage."
"I'll be here."
"I know." Her hand tightens briefly on my wrist. "That's the other part of the problem. You're always here. And I can't figure out if that makes me want to kill you or kiss you."
"The eternal question."
"Go to sleep, Rhystan."
I close my eyes. Let her presence wash over me through the bond—her exhaustion, her determination, the love she's still fighting even though she already admitted it exists.
Two weeks until the ritual.
Two weeks until we find out if she's strong enough to survive what's coming.
But tonight, she's here. Warm and alive and letting me stay.
I'll take what I can get.
The fifth week brings the final components.
Blessed silver from the temple—enough to draw the binding circle three times over. Dragon blood, drawn fresh each morning from my own veins. Herbs the mystic has prepared, bitter-smelling compounds meant to stabilize the body during magical trauma.
