At first, it surprised me that my mother didn’t volunteer to go. She would be the most knowledgeable in this situation. But judging by the fleeting glances she aims in my direction, I know she’s not keen on leaving me alone, and I doubt she’s equipped to make the journey. She will remain by my bedside, even if that means watching me suffer. She'd rather be next to me in my final moments than not be with me at all. I can understand that, but I also don’t plan on dying.
Does anyone plan on dying?
Ipush that thought aside because it doesn’t serve me now. All I care about is this last evening with my mates. Zephyr is propped up against the wall, staring out the window. He’s been there for the past hour, ever since Evangeline went off to bathe. He was reluctant to let her go at first, something unspeakable passing between them, but in the end, Evangeline kissed his cheek and made her way to the bathing chamber alone.
Something is brewing between them.
Something Zephyr can no longer deny.
“Mate,” I say, my voice louder than intended in the room’s stillness. The word stretches across the space between us, but it doesn’t close the distance. Zephyr feels miles away, though he’s standing just a few feet in front of me, while I’m propped up in bed.
He turns at the sound of my voice, slow and stiff, like movement costs him something. Shadows cling beneath his eyes, the purple smudges deepening the sharp lines of his face. His normally bright gaze is dulled, rimmed with red, because he’s slept little these past few days. There’s a tightness in his jaw, and the set of his shoulders—usually proud and unshakable—sags with invisible weight. He looks like he’s been carrying a storm no one else can see.
I wish I could unburden him, but I fear I’m the reason for all those burdens.
“One night,” I remind him.
Zephyr clenches his jaw but nods once. It’s not enthusiastic consent, but it’s enough. I beckon him over with one finger. He’s almost reluctant in the way he walks over to me, but I hold his stare.
When he reaches me, he perches on the side of the bed. Still too far for my liking. I reach out, gripping his tunic and pulling him toward me with both fists. I crash my mouth against his in a hungry, needy kiss. He hasn’t kissed me since I’ve been cursed. He’s dancing around me like I’m fragile glass, easy to break.
He’s known me long enough to know that isn’t true.
I feel his resolve crumble at the first stroke of my tongue against his lips. The tension in his body doesn’t disappear completely, but it eases as he leans into the kiss, parting his lips. His mouth is warm. Safe. Mine.
I want to memorize everything about him. The way he tastes, his smell, the rough touch of his hands on me. I want to do more, show him just how much I love him with my body, but kissing is all I have the energy for now.
He doesn’t pull away, even when the kiss slows, softens, and turns into something else entirely. Reverence, maybe. Apology. Love. His forehead presses against mine when we part. His warm breath against my cheek has me yearning to feel it all over my body.
“I hate this,” he whispers. The words aren’t sharp. They’re not even meant to sting. Hell, I’m not even certain he meant to speak them out loud. They’re simply the truth, dropped into the space between us like stones into water. “I hate that you’re hurting. I hate that I can’t fix you.”
“You’re here.” I lift my hand to his cheek. “That’s enough for me, and it’s not your responsibility to fix me.” I’m helpless to do anything but hold him close.
His eyes close. For a moment, I pretend it’s because he believes me.
Then the door opens, and we turn as one to see Evangeline at the threshold.
Soft footsteps pad across the stone floor, followed by the faint scent of lavender oil and warm skin. She appears, wrapped in a pale robe that clings to her curves, her damp hair curling at the ends. Her cheeks flush red from the heat of the bath. But her eyes, gods, her eyes… they search for me the way a ship searches for light in the fog. When they land on me, something in her settles—simply relief to know I’m still breathing, but I pretend it’s more.
She loves me.
She didn’t say it directly, but she said she’d do this trip for the people she loves. And goddess, I love this woman so much. She and Zephyr are the reason I will fight this for as long as I can.
“I was starting to think you fell asleep without me,” she says gently, a small smile ghosting across her lips.
Zephyr moves aside just enough for her to approach. She hesitates for a beat, her gaze flickingto him, then back to me. There’s so much unsaid in her expression—fear, longing, that desperate hope she always tries to mask with bravery. I reach toward her, fingers outstretched, and she comes without further prompting, crawling into the bed beside me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is where we were always meant to be.
And by gods, I hope it isn’t the last time.
Zephyr stays on my other side, still perched awkwardly at first, until Evangeline tucks herself against my right shoulder, and I shift to make room on my left.
“Lie down, both of you,” I murmur, needing them both near. “You’ll make yourselves tired from all the worrying you’re trying to hide.”
Zephyr gives me a half laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Still, he does as I ask, kicking off his boots and sliding under the covers.
Evangeline sighs as she presses her cheek to my chest. Her fingers trace idle patterns along my stomach, and I can feel how careful she is, how measured her touch. As if I might vanish beneath her hands.
“You know,” I speak softly, catching her attention. “The only thing hurting me right now is the look on your face.” I tilt my chin down to meet her gaze. “I need you to believe I’m going to make it. Both of you. Have more faith in your abilities to stop this curse. I do.”
