I stepped carefully into the room and adjusted his blanket, smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He mumbled something in his sleep, probably about cookies or dragons, and rolled over.
Mal’s arm came around my waist, drawing me against his chest. We stood there together, just watching our son breathe.
“We made a pretty great kid,” I whispered.
“We make pretty great everything.”
We backed out carefully and closed the door without a sound.
In the hallway, I stopped walking and took a deep breath. In and out. The decision had been forming in my chest since I’d watched Killian mumble in his sleep, and now it crystallized into certainty.
“I want to do it. Find Tyreen. Whatever it takes.”
“Then we find her.”
That was it. No hesitation, no doubt in his voice. Just complete, unwavering support. Sometimes I forgot how lucky I was to have someone who trusted me this much, who would follow my choices even when they were terrifying.
We walked together to Casimya’s guest room a few floors down. I knocked softly on her door.
She answered almost immediately, still fully dressed, a book in her hand. Like she’d been expecting us.
“You have decided,” she said. Not a question.
“We want to do the tracking ritual.”
She nodded once. “I can begin preparations tomorrow. But it will take days to prepare properly. The magic is complex.”
“How long?”
“Three days. Maybe four. And the ritual itself will be draining. You are the link to Tyreen, remember the spell will pull from you.”
Mal’s hand tightened on mine. I hadn’t shared that bit of information with him. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not dangerous,” Casimya said carefully. “But exhausting. She will need significant rest afterward.”
“I can handle it,” I said.
Casimya’s expression softened slightly. “I know you can.”
With that, we returned to our chambers, both of us exhausted but too wired to sleep right away. Mal and I climbed into bed and he gathered me against him, wrapping around me like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. His chin rested on top of my head, one arm banded across my waist, our legs tangled together in a familiar knot.
“We will figure this out,” he murmured against my hair. “We always do.”
“I know. Together.”
“Yes. Always, my little mate.”
I fell asleep like that, safe in his arms, knowing that whatever came next, we’d face it as a team. We’d survived the rejection and found our way back to each other. We’d survived the accusations at the banquet. We’d survive this too.
***
Three days later, I stood in a ritual room that Casimya had prepared. Candles everywhere, dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Herbs burning in bronze bowls, filling the air with sweet smoke. Magical circles drawn on the stone floor in what I really hoped wasn’t blood.
“Are you ready?” Casimya asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mal stepped forward. “I am staying.”
