Ruan sighed, nodding. He did not look surprised, only determined, as his brows furrowed and jaw tightened.
“Ruan,” Adrissu said, looking up at him. He pushed Vesper off him and stood. “Let’s just go.”
“Go?” Ruan asked, surprise flitting on his face. “Go where?”
“Anywhere but here,” he said, stepping toward him. He grasped both of Ruan’s wrists. “Please. None of this needs to involve us. We can just go. I’ll block up the entrance to my lair here and come back for my things when we find someplace else. But please, let’s just leave.”
“What are you talking about?” Ruan said, shaking his head. A nervous laugh escaped him. “You really want to leave?”
“I want to keep yousafe,” he growled. “I don’t care about the Federation or Gennemont. I don’t care whose rule Polimnos is under. I care about you. I care about keeping you with me as long as I can. I care about keeping youalive.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Ruan said. He looked down at where Adrissu still held his wrists, but he did not try to pull away. “Adrissu. You know that.”
“Then please,” he rasped, forcing down the panic threatening to overtake him. “The soul-binding ritual... Please, just consider it.”
“Adrissu,” Ruan said sharply, but Adrissu could not stop the jumble of words escaping his mouth.
“I beg you, Ruan, please. If you must fight, if you must stay here—Ruan, if anything happened to you, I don’t know how I would survive.”
Vesper had slithered off the lounge and up to Ruan, curling protectively around his ankle. He looked down at her, not meeting Adrissu’s eyes.
“You would survive,” he said hollowly. “Of course you would.”
“Ruan,” Adrissu said again. It was all he could manage. The world felt like it was crumbling beneath him. What was the use of all his power, his strength, if he could not keep his mate safe?
“Stop,” Ruan said abruptly, turning away. “Don’t ask me again.”
Adrissu’s vision went red at the edges. He could feel his breathing coming hard, his heart pounding—for one wild instant he wanted to shove Ruan down the hatch to his lair and keep him imprisoned there until the fighting was over. But Ruan would hate him, and he was increasingly sure that he would hate himself too. He was more helpless than he had ever been in his life.
Silently he turned away, stepped toward the hatch, and dropped down without looking at Ruan. He could hear the human’s distant shout as he fell, but all he could focus on was how badly he needed to fly, to rage.
He could not cry in his draconic form, but at least he could roar out his frustration until his voice gave up. Fire streamed from his throat like all the words he could not say, and he blasted the walls with his breath over and over until the embers were like razor blades in his mouth. When he finally went back up, Ruan was already gone.
Ruan was going to die.
The sentence was the only full thought that his mind could produce as he sat in the council hall. Discussions were happening around him, but he couldn’t focus on any of it—could barely hear it over his own misery. Ruan was going to die, and there was little he could do to stop it.
The council would wait out the remaining four days before giving their answer to buy as much time as they could; that much he could recall, along with how terse and hopeless everyone’s voices had been. He would never understand these humans’ desperation to fight a losing battle.
He could feel Maya’s eyes linger on him when the meeting ended, but she said nothing as he gathered his belongings and stepped out of the room. But he could not have held a conversation even if he had wanted to, so he was glad that no one tried to stop him as he quietly left.
When he arrived back at Saltspire Tower, Ruan was already there. Adrissu jerked to a stop in the doorway when he spotted him sitting at the dining table, his heart seizing all over again. It was almost worse to be around him, to see him, while knowing that the hourglass of their time together was nearly empty.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ruan said, leaning over in his chair to peer at Adrissu. He shook himself into action, glancing down at his feet as he set his bag on the ground. Vesper slithered up to carry it away, and he watched her drag it along for a moment, before looking back at Ruan.
“What’s wrong?” Ruan asked, and Adrissu winced.
“You know what’s wrong,” he muttered darkly, and the veneer of concern on Ruan’s face fell away to something far more grim.
“I guess I do,” he sighed, turning back to the bowl of walnuts that he had been shelling. A mess of hulls was gathered on a separate plate—he would save them for Adrissu to make ink. The task seemed pointless and tedious to Adrissu now. Why waste their time?
“Ruan,” he rasped. “I had a thought that... perhaps I could go with you.”
Ruan’s face had become pinched when he started speaking, but now the human looked back over at him in confusion.
“Go with me?” he repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“To defend Polimnos,” Adrissu said, licking his lips nervously. “If... Zamnes went with you.”
