Like we’re both shell-shocked, heads still spinning too fast for our thoughts to catch up to reality, Callum and I just stand and stand and stand there, both of us silent, bodies stock-still.
Both our eyes are locked on the Veil. Callum’s got his sword in his hand, and my fingertips rest against the remaining spells I’ve got tucked away in my pockets, ready to deploy them at a moment’s notice.
The ether pulses once, twice, then settles back into its normal pearlescent sheen.
Unless the Goddess is in a really, really bad mood and wants to make us keep fighting for our lives against a horde of fae trying to kill us, it would seem we’re in the clear.
Now, if only I can make my body believe that.
Every muscle pulled taut, every nerve ending lit up. My blood races, and every inch of me is still poised right on the edge of control, waiting for a fight.
The fight never comes.
Second by second, the adrenaline ebbs.
It ebbs enough that I finally realize.
I’m still holding Callum’s hand.
Warm and large and calloused, his fingers are still wrapped tightly around mine.
I don’t let go.
Even though I should. Even though there’s no more danger and my mind is finally catching up to that fact.
But I don’t.
Instead, I squeeze.
Callum squeezes back.
That light, reassuring touch breaks the spell we’re under, and we both relax. Ready, at least for the moment, to believe we’re not about to die.
“You’re alright?”
I nod in response to Callum’s soft question, then remember.
Dread clawing its way up my throat, I finally let go of his hand. “Fuck. You were hit. Are you okay?” My hands skate over his armor, grabbing at his shoulders so I can turn him around and look at where he was—
“Fine,” he assures me. “I’m fine. It didn’t pierce my plating.”
“Yeah, but that was a hell of a hit.”
He shrugs. “I’ve taken worse.”
Well, now, I don’t like the sound of that very much. “If you say so.”
“I do.” The ghost of his smile reveals the tip of one fang.
“And the horde of fae? Have you seen worse than that, too?”
He strokes his beard in mock contemplation. “No. I can’t say I have. Was it worth it, though? You got what you were seeking in the cottage?”
“Yeah.” I pat my bag. “Yeah, I did.”
More seconds tick by, and it finally sinks in.
The clue to the heart.
