I stare at him incredulously. ‘Look at you. You’re bleeding out.’
‘I vowed never … to use it … on myself.’
‘And how do you intend to keep that vow when you’re dead?’ I remove the stopper and thrust the vial into his hand. ‘Take it. There’s still one left.’
Fox looks from me to the lachrymortis, torn. His skin is hot to the touch. He screws up his face as the pain persists.
I wrap my fingers round his. ‘Please.’
I feel his resolve begin to weaken. Gently I ease the vial between his lips before pouring the contents down his throat.
Relief clouds his features. The euphoria is almost tangible.
I gasp as the lacerated skin on his chest begins to knit back together. Ragged flesh turns smooth once more; every cut seals shut, scrapes and bruises fading into nothing.
Fox blinks and stumbles slightly. The agony was so all-consuming that I imagine its sudden absence must be dizzying.
Hesitantly, I lay my palm on his chest, right over the spot where the Bear plunged his tooth-spiked fist. I trace the outline of the wound, from just next to his heart all the way down to his navel.
‘It worked,’ I whisper. ‘You’re healed.’
That’s when I begin to shake, small tremors quickly turning into shudders so violent I can’t seem to catch my breath.
Fox looks alarmed. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. Nothing. I’m f-fine.’
I suspect I’m just in shock. It’s the adrenaline wearing off, nothing more. To my dismay, drizzle begins to fall above our heads, light and hazy. I curse and turn away, but Fox pulls me back instinctively, his arms locking round my waist.
‘Tell me.’
‘I thought … I thought you were going to …’
His lips part in surprise, his green eyes scanning my face. ‘It’s all right now,’ he says softly. ‘I’m all right.We’reall right.’
I nod, balling my hands into fists to keep them from trembling.
Fox tucks a stray curl behind my ear. ‘Look at me.’
But I just hang my head, a blush staining my cheeks.
He cups my face, tilting my chin. ‘Blaze,’ he breathes, my name as sacred as a prayer on his lips. ‘Look at me.’
My eyes flicker up.
Everything else seems to fall away, and I see only him. The boy who broke the world. Beautiful and bewildering and covered in blood, looking down at me as though I’m the answer to a question he hasn’t dared to ask. The cloud of drizzle grows warm, falling like ash from the midnight sky. In the light from my brandmark, I watch his pupils dilate.
‘This is a very bad idea,’ I whisper.
‘You’re probably right,’ he says.
Then he kisses me.
Time seems to slow as his lips meet mine. I’m frozen, suspended somewhere between trepidation and disbelief as I wait to come to my senses. Except I don’t. I just melt into him, wrapping my arms tightly round his neck.
The kiss is hot and hungry, almost feverish.
It’s not like it was in the maze. This time there are no masks, no case of mistaken identity. This time, I know it’s him. Ichoosehim.
