Javier’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“We have a connection open for him, should he choose to return.” My gaze fell to Alastor’s slack face, to the dried blood that still clung to him. “Can you keep it open?”
Willow hesitated before her eyes softened, and she nodded in understanding.
Javier’s hands went around my wrist in a tight grip. “You can’t just—” He moved his hand to scrub over his face. His next words came out rough but trembling. “He needs you to heal him.”
I turned to him, expression open so he could see how much this decision hurt me as well. “You need us to heal him. I get it, Javi. I want him healed and here too.” My throat tightened. “He was stripped of choice almost every moment of his life. I’m sorry, but I won’t take this from him.” Not even for Teddy could I force this decision upon Alastor.
Tense and shaking, Javier’s shoulders rose. “So we do nothing?”
“No.” Somehow, the word came out steady, although my chest felt like it might cave. “We stay with him.” The way my friends had stayed with me the day I’d been destined to die. “We let him know we’re here, waiting for him to return. But if he’s ready to rest, we let him.”
My words landed heavy, and for long beats, the tent was silent. Javier’s breath shuddered out, his hands falling uselessly at his side before he gripped Alastor’s hand.
“He doesn’t quit,” he whispered. “You’ve never quit before, Alastor. Don’t start now.”
Finley’s hand slipped into mine, and I held on to the strong rhythm of her pulse.
“Then we wait,” Finley said. “Together.”
Javier’s gaze stayed fixed on Alastor’s still form, and as Willow’s binding flowed through Alastor, I sat on the tent floor, with Finley following suit.
The space felt too small with grief’s unremitting presence.
Finley’s head rested against my shoulder, and the quiet that followed wasn’t quite rest. It was an agonizing silence that stirred my blood.
Willow’s binding glowed at her fingertips, painting Alastor’s body in pale light. Each shimmer was a reminder of the life we may lose.
Javier didn’t move from beside Alastor. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed, and each breath was a struggle to keep from shattering. The look in his eyes gutted me, like grief suspended, unsure if it would break.
I wished I could rest the way Willow had suggested, but my thoughts wouldn’t stop turning. Because what if this was all because of me? What if my instinct to protect Finley had twisted our bond into something that struck? The memory of Finley’s power surging within me sat too heavily to ignore.
If I couldn’t control it, if what now lived inside me made me a danger, how could I ever stand beside Finley when she faced Zaicha again? How could I protect the dragons without causing their demise in the process?
Our bond pulsed faintly, as if answering my unspoken questions. Her threads brushed against mine in soft, soothing strokes as she nestled in closer, and her lips brushed against my ear.
“I’ve lived with all of those fears,” she whispered. “Yet you’ve never been afraid of me. My magic, our binding, isn’t what harmed Alastor. But if you want me to withdraw my magic from our bond, I can bind it to my breath. I don’t want you to carry my?—”
“I’m not afraid of your magic, Lolli,” I said just as quietly. “I just need to learn to control it. You’ll teach me, though, won’t you?”
She ran her nose along my throat, sending my heart skittering. “I’ll teach you.”
“If you say it wasn’t our binding that harmed him, I’ll stop playing the martyr and believe you.”
She let out a huff of a laugh, and my chest settled at the sound.
For several beats, it felt like this very realm held its breath for us. It was only Finley tucked beside me, Alastor’s shallow breaths, Hoshiko’s wings flapping above the tents, and the faint waves hitting the shore.
Then everything changed.
The air turned cold. Finley gasped, her back going rigid as her magic flared sudden and bright through our bond.
Javier’s head snapped to us while Willow stood to step away.
“Keep Alastor with us,” I told her, my voice strained.
“Brenton—” Finley’s voice broke.
