Through the bond, I feel her emotions shift. Not anger, as I expected, but something softer. Understanding, maybe. Or forgiveness I don't deserve.
She's quiet for a long moment, her thumb still moving against my skin in soothing circles that make my chest ache with how much I've missed her touch. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
"I wanted to complete the bond."
Hope expands in my chest. "What?"
"Before I got so sick I could barely think." She shifts on the altar, pushing herself into a sitting position despite my attempt to keep her lying down. "I missed you. I missed Irida. I missed your house and your staff and the way you'd look at me when you thought I wasn't paying attention."
Her free hand finds mine, fingers interlacing with a certainty that makes the bond between us pulse with warmth. "I wanted to come home, Mihalis. I just—I got too sick to make it back on my own."
Relief crashes over me so hard it's almost painful. The guilt that's been eating at me since I carried her unconscious forminto this temple begins to ease, replaced by something fierce and protective and completely possessive.
"You're sure?" I have to ask, even though I can feel the truth of her words through our connection. "This isn't just the bond talking, or gratitude because I helped you when you were dying?"
She laughs, and the sound is like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "The bond helps, I won't lie about that. But what I feel for you—this isn't magic, Mihalis. This is choice. Mine, made with a clear head and full knowledge of what I'm agreeing to."
Her eyes search mine, looking for something I'm not sure she'll find. "The question is whether you can accept that. Whether you can trust that I'm here because I want to be, not because some mystical force is compelling me."
I study her face, drinking in every detail. The way her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, the stubborn tilt to her chin, the storm-gray eyes that have haunted my dreams for days. She looks stronger already, the bond having restored much of the vitality the separation drained from her.
But more than that, she looks determined. Like she's made a decision and won't be swayed from it.
"I can accept that," I say finally, leaning down to press my forehead against hers. "As long as you can accept that I'm never letting you leave again."
Her smile is radiant. "I don't want any more space, remember? I think I've had enough of that to last several lifetimes."
Unable to resist, I press a soft kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair and letting myself acknowledge how close I came to losing everything that matters. "I promised you space," I murmur against her skin. "But there was only so much I could take. When I felt you dying through the bond?—"
"Hey." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "I'm here now. We're both here, and we're both alive, and that's what matters."
The simple certainty in her voice settles something restless in my chest. She's right, of course. We survived the separation, survived the bond trying to kill us both, survived my own desperate attempt to save her. Everything else is just details we can work through later.
"Come on," I say, standing and offering her my hand. "Let's go home. Irida has been asking about you constantly, and Thera's been threatening to dose me with sleeping draughts if I don't stop pacing."
Heidi's face lights up at the mention of my daughter. "How is she? I worried—leaving so suddenly, I didn't want her to think I abandoned her."
"She knows better than that." I help her to her feet, steadying her when she sways slightly. The bond has restored most of her strength, but she's still recovering from days of magical exhaustion. "She's been convinced you'd come back. More convinced than I was, honestly."
We make our way out of the temple slowly, my arm around her waist both to support her and because I need the contact. After days of that awful empty feeling where the bond used to be, having her close feels like being able to breathe again.
The carriage ride home passes in comfortable silence, her hand in mine and her head resting against my shoulder. I can feel her contentment through our connection, mixed with anticipation and a bone-deep relief that mirrors my own.
When we reach the house, I barely have time to help Heidi out of the carriage before the front door flies open and a small tornado in the shape of my daughter comes racing down the path.
"Heidi! Heidi, you came back!" Irida launches herself into Heidi's arms with complete disregard for the fact that she was nearly dying a few hours ago. "I knew you would! Dad said you were away but I told him you'd come home!"
Heidi catches her easily, spinning her around once before setting her down and kneeling to her level. The sight of them together—my daughter's bright smile and Heidi's gentle hands smoothing down Irida's curls—does something to my chest that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with family.
"I missed you so much, little spark," Heidi says, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long."
"It's okay," Irida says with the easy forgiveness of a child. "You're home now. And Dad is much less grumpy, which is good because he was getting really scary when he didn't think I was looking."
I snort at that, reaching down to ruffle my daughter's hair. "I was not scary."
"You made Varos hide in the kitchen yesterday when you started growling at the wall," Irida informs me seriously. "That's pretty scary."
Heidi looks up at me with raised eyebrows and badly suppressed laughter. "Growling at walls? Really?"
