“We’ve got her, Thorne,” she says firmly, laying a hand on Delia’s arm. “She and Phoebe will stay here with me, won’t you?”
Phoebe nods quickly, sliding off the arm of the chair to stand beside Jules.
“Kael already told me,” she says, mouth tight but steady. “If the wards scream like that, it’s bad. We won’t make it worse by getting in the way.”
Delia looks between them.
She doesn’t want to agree. I can feel it through the bond, like a fire trying to leap its hearth.
Slowly, she exhales.
“I hate this,” she mutters.
“Good,” I say roughly. “So do I.”
Jules snorts. “You go do your Lord-of-Fire thing,” she tells me. “We’ll keep each other from losing our minds up here.”
“Speak for yourself,” Phoebe murmurs, but she steps closer to Delia, linking their arms.
Delia looks back at me then, dark eyes locking with mine. “You’ll come back,” she says.
Not a question. A demand.
“Yes,” I answer. No hesitation. “I will.”
“You promise.”
“I swear it on flame and stone and the Vein itself,” I say, letting my fire show in my eyes, letting her feel the truth of it through our zareth. “I will return to you.”
Her fingers slide from my hands to my face, thumbs brushing my jaw with a tenderness that threatens to undo me completely.
“Then go,” she whispers. “Before I change my mind and try to follow you anyway.”
I huff a breath that’s almost a laugh. Almost.
I lean down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that is far too brief for what I want but all we have time for. She tastes like caramel and smoke and stubborn hope.
I pull back, pressing my forehead to hers for a heartbeat.
“Stay with them,” I murmur. “Stay here. Stay safe.”
“I will,” she answers, voice shaking just a little. “Now you stay alive. That’s an order, Lord of Fire.”
I bare my teeth in a grin that feels more like a snarl.
“As my viyella commands.”
I straighten, forcing my hands to let her go.
Jules offers me a small, fierce nod.
Phoebe crosses herself with some human gesture from her old world, then curls an arm protectively around her belly.
I turn and stride from the chamber before I can look back.
Alaric and Kael are already waiting in the corridor, having already said their own goodbyes. Their eyes are sharp, magic coiled. Dagan’s too.
“Well?” Alaric asks.
