I pick at a stray thread edging the blanket. The idea holds a warmth that was not present months ago. “I… suppose Tuleen is my friend,” I murmur tentatively. And what a joy it is to know this.
Roshar glances at the South Wind again before turning to me. “I wish I could stay, but it’s been a long night. I’m meeting a new client tomorrow, and I absolutely want to look my best.”
My mouth quirks. “Understood.” I would not dare get in the way of Roshar’s beauty sleep.
Quietly, he departs, and I eat one of the sandwiches while passing the time. I pace, window to door to bed. A second sandwich finds its way into my mouth. As the lamp burns low, my nerves wear thin, because the night has waned, and Notus continues to sleep. But I can wait. I will wait for as long as is necessary—
With a low, rumbling sigh, the South Wind wakens.
Immediately, his eyes seek mine. Their earthy shade holds a startling clarity. I bite my lower lip, fighting tears. But the ache twists and sharpens, rendering me breathless. My hands unclench. My armor falls.
Frowning, Notus lifts a hand to my cheek. His thumb cuts the water in its tracks. “I do not like to see you cry,” he whispers.
Oh, his voice. How I have yearned for it. “If it makes you feel better,” I wheeze, the words mangled, “they are happy tears.” Relieved tears. The most gratified tears. My teeth sink harder into my quivering lip. This man, this beautiful man. “I’ve missed you.”
Notus closes his eyes at my words, as though they are his own music. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then he draws me onto the bed.
The blankets sigh at my legs as his strong arms band across my back, his face tucked against my neck, the dark, heady scent of him embracing me. There is no singular emotion claiming space inside my chest. It is all layers, each adding newfound depth to what is already present. It is deeper than hurt, deeper than the sharpest agony. It lives and breathes beneath my skin.
“I feared you were lost to me,” I whisper, tears coursing down my cheeks.
His arms tighten, and I burrow down into him, where sanctuary lies. “Not lost,” he murmurs, with enough conviction to reassure me. “Never lost. Temporarily misplaced, perhaps.”
I emit a watery chuckle into his chest. Temporarily misplaced, indeed.
“You must know,” he whispers. “Surely you must know.”
I slide a hand up his back, comforting us both. “Know what?”
Gently, Notus pulls away to look at me, his gaze earnest. Over his shoulder, the lamp light sputters, its wick eaten down. Whatever shadows emerge, they are harmless. The sun will return soon enough. “In any realm, no matter the obstacles, no matter the hardships I must endure, I will find you.”
My lips quiver. This face, this strong, beautiful face. The face of the one I love. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I would not choose to do so. You must know that I would not.”
I do know. Perhaps I have always known. Perhaps I would have accepted it sooner, had I not allowed fear to guide my life.
For a time, we sit in companionable silence, his heartbeat the lowest drum against my ear. It is too precious a sound. Twice, I have lost this man. I do not think I could survive a third parting.
“Sarai,” he whispers. Something in his voice pokes my awareness: a childlike confusion. “Why can I no longer feel my power?”
His pulse drives forward when I do not immediately respond. He questions, he doubts, he suspects. But I anticipated this. In the hours of waiting, I arranged the relevant information into something palpable, easily swallowed. This conversation is, after all, fragile. An unexpected change. It must be handled with care.
Easing back, I cup one of his broad hands in mine. “What do you remember?” I ask.
Notus searches my gaze. Perhaps it is then he understands. Or perhaps the tightness of my grip reveals this difficult truth.
“I remember you bound by shadow,” he says slowly, “your throat bared to Prince Balior’s blade. I remember the helplessness, the terror that I would be forced to watch you die. And—” His hand lifts, presses over his heart, shielding the thin white line where the prince’s dagger sank deep. “I remember thinking it would have been worth it, to take the blow in your stead. That I could not live with myself, knowing your life was cut short.” He takes a ragged breath, swallows, yet I see how his distress rises like floodwaters, this prospect that was so close to being made real.
And just like that, my love for him deepens. Just as he reinforces my weakened parts, so too will I be the steel of his blade, the stony ground when all yields to sand. “I’m here, Notus,” I remind him. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”
The South Wind expels a great, heaving exhalation. “I couldn’t be certain at the time, but the dagger looked like it belonged to Sleep, the god who is responsible for half of mortals’ lives. I’d hoped that was the case. His blades, though god-touched, are not like our other weapons. They’re coated with a powerful elixir that sends whoever the blade nicks into endless sleep.”
“Prince Balior didn’t know,” I realize. “He didn’t know the dagger he held belonged to Sleep.” Otherwise he never would have agreed to the bargain.
“In the end, it was to our advantage,” Notus says. “I hoped the elixir would be enough to thwart death, at least for the time being.”
It is a decision I would have made, had our positions been reversed. I would have given my life a thousand times. Nothing would have stopped me.
