“Good,” Zan replies at last. “We will free Kelvan and search for another way. Or make one. If the stone allows.”
If the stone allows.
The stone rarely allows anything.
It is as stubborn and impressive as my Mih-kay-lah.
I become aware again of how close I am still holding her. I have curled her into my chest, and my glow is still wrapped around us both like a second skin.
Slowly, I let myself unwind, making sure we are both steady on our feet.
The ledge is barely wide enough for one. Sitting is safer than standing. I shift, slide my back down the wall until I am braced against it, knees bent, feet planted a claw-span from the drop.
“Sit,” I say, patting the small space between my thighs.
Her eyes flick between the gap, the hole below, and our brothers across the way. She swallows, then lowers herself carefully into the space I offered.
Her back fits easily against my chest. Her hips settle between my thighs. We become one strangely assembled creature with too many limbs.
She is warm and solid. Each shift of her weight sends another line of heat straight through me, pooling heavy where heat already stirs behind my seal. If she senses the insistent pulsing, she will surely want to move.
So, I tense everything and focus on simple things: the feel of the rock at my spine. The steady drip of water. The faint vibrations from the other side.
We sit like that for several long breaths, watching Haroth and Zan move around the fallen stone, talking quietly with Kelvan below.
Eventually, the tight set of Mih-kay-lah’s shoulders eases. Little by little, she lets more of her weight rest back against me.
Her next words come slowly. I catch “water,” “bad,” and “here.” She gestures with her hand at the drop before us and the darkness beyond.
She is showing me the path. The stone has cut off the other bank, trapping us on this side.
“Yesss…bad,” I echo, forcing the Een-gleesh words out because I want her to hear it in her own tongue.
Her eyes flick up at the sound.
“Path back…is broken,” I add in Drakavian, gesturing at the gap in the ledge. “But I…stay here. Mih-kay-lah…and Sarven.”
She goes very quiet. Those deep brown eyes search mine for the longest while.
Then, softly, she says one word I know as well as my own name.
“Team.”
The sound of it in her mouth sends a strange, steady warmth through my bones. I know this word. Jah-kee uses it when she talks about herself and Tharn. About how they move together.
Now Mih-kay-lah uses it withme.
“Tee... elm,” I repeat carefully, tasting it. “Teeem.”
She gives me a small, quick smile. Then a shiver rolls through her, sharp enough that I feel it all along my chest and arms.
My body moves before my mind decides.
I wrap my arms around her again, this time on purpose, forearms banded over her ribs and across the front of her soft middle, careful of the basket in her lap.
She goes stiff, every muscle locking.
She holds herself a breath-width away from my chest, as if hoping to hover there indefinitely rather than give in to contact.
