Despite everything, the pain, the fear, the overwhelming emotions, I felt a laugh bubble up from my chest. It was so like Paz to document this moment as if he were recording a minor household expense.
"Sir," he said, looking up from his notes with a hint of a smile. "Miss Davenport. Shall I give you a moment, or would you like assistance returning to your chambers?"
I tried to stand and discovered that while my power had returned, my body had not forgotten the ordeal it had just endured. My legs trembled, threatening to give out.
"Assistance," I admitted, "would be appreciated."
Charlie was at my side immediately, crossing into the circle without hesitation. The moment she touched me, I felt the bond pulse warmly between us, no longer unstable, no longer uncertain. Just complete.
"I've got you," she said softly, wrapping an arm around my waist.
Together, with Paz supporting my other side, they helped me to my feet. The chamber spun slightly, exhaustion catching up with me now that the adrenaline was fading.
"The ritual took its toll, even though the power returned," Paz observed as we made our slow way toward the stairs. "You'll need rest, sir. Significant rest."
"Worth it," I murmured, leaning heavily on both of them.
The climb up the spiral staircase was an exercise in endurance. Each step required focus, and by the time we reached the main floor, I was ready to collapse. But Charlie never wavered, her strength surprising for someone who'd just been at the center of a maelstrom.
"Almost there," she encouraged as we made our way through the halls toward my chambers.
When we finally reached my room, Paz and Charlie deposited me on the bed with surprising gentleness. I sank into the mattress gratefully, every muscle protesting.
"I'll prepare a restorative draught," Paz said, backing toward the door. "And perhaps some food. You'll both need to rebuild your strength." He paused at the threshold, his expression softening. "I'm glad you're both well, sir. Miss Davenport."
After he left, Charlie settled beside me on the bed, her hand finding mine. The patterns on both our skin flared in recognition, no longer faint, no longer struggling, but vibrant and synchronized.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "For not telling you. For making the decision without you."
"You were trying to save my life," she replied, squeezing my hand. "I can't be too angry about that. But Malrik?" Her voice turned firm. "Next time something like this happens, we face it together. No more sacrificial heroics without consulting me first."
"Agreed." I managed a weak smile. "Though I hope there won't be a next time. One voluntary dissipation is quite enough, even if the power did return."
She laughed softly, then sobered. "What you were willing to do... the power you were giving up... I know what that would have cost you."
"It would have cost me less than losing you," I said simply. "Though I admit, I'm relieved the outcome was different than expected."
"Our power," she said, studying the patterns on our joined hands. "It really is shared now, isn't it?"
"Completely." I could feel it pulsing, the way the energy flowed between us, no longer his or hers but ours. "When you madeyour choice, the bond recognized it. The power couldn't remain divided anymore."
"So all that pain, all that sacrifice..." she trailed off.
"Wasn't wasted," I finished. "It proved I was willing to give up everything for you. And your choice proved you wanted me regardless. The power responded to that truth."
She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I love you, you ridiculous demon."
"I love you too," I replied, the words coming easier now. "Even if you did interrupt my dramatic sacrifice."
"Someone had to stop you from being a martyr." She settled more comfortably beside me, careful not to jostle me too much. "Besides, I prefer you whole and powerful and here with me."
I could feel the truth of her words, the depth of her commitment. She had chosen me, not the powerful demon I'd been, not some idealized version, but me. All of me, including the part that had been willing to destroy itself to keep her safe.
And somehow, impossibly, that choice had saved us both.
"Sleep," she murmured, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on my skin. "You've earned it."
I wanted to protest, to say something witty or charming. But exhaustion was pulling at me, the toll of the ritual demanding payment even though my power had returned.
