But he’d lost his mind. Out of guilt, grief... It didn’t matter why. He was going to throw his own life away on a delusion. “But I can’t leave here, Jesstin,” she said weakly. “You know... You know death is not reversible?”
“A living man walking amongst the dead is supposed to be impossible too, and here I am.” He lifted his shoulders with an arrogant smirk.
“You need to leave before whatever magic compelling you here fades.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
Elloven threw up her hands in disbelief. “You should be!”
“I’m not.” He shrugged, lighter this time. “I’ll leave when you can.”
“What if you can’t leave, Jesstin?”
He pursed his lips and puffed out a breath. “Damn, hadn’t considered that.”
“I’m serious. You don’t know anything about this place. All you do know was told to you by those who would dispose of you the moment you served your purpose.”
“Daire will reach out. Soon.” Jesstin’s face looked less convinced than his words sounded.
“With all Ryquin’s necromancers, how has none told him what to do?”
“They’ve told him enough to believe in the door. If I could summon the dead myself, I’d have asked some better fucking questions than he did though.”
“You can’t?” A chill passed over Elloven as she realized that was the reason she hadn’t heard from him. He hadn’t abandoned her. He’d been fighting to find her in the only way he could.
“If I can, I have no idea how. I was never taught magic. I never asked to be because I didn’t want anyone knowing I had it. The last thing I wanted was to get shipped off to the Sepulchre and locked in a tower with a bunch of stuffy wizards and dusty books. The dead find me, whether I like it or not.” He laughed dryly. “But bloody hell, they were practically crawling up my ass in Rivenholde. Hundreds, thousands, way too fucking many.”
She was still buzzing from the almost-kiss, her out-of-character boldness, and his gentle rebuff that seemed, in hindsight, more for her sake. But it was all so confusing. The vulnerability in his magic had compelled him to the netherworld to set his crimes to rights, yet he didn’t want her forgiveness?
His behavior was mystifying.
Elloven’s heart suddenly spiked with a wonderful, hopeful thought. “You never told me. Has Gen ever found you?”
Jesstin threw a glance behind him, like he’d heard something. “Dawn is coming. We need to make a plan. Where are you? Are you safe?”
She was disappointed not to get his answer, but she’d ask again, when they weren’t up against the sun. They were on the same timeline now, and she had hope they’d find each other in their dreams until they could connect in person... if they could connect in person. “I’m safe.” It wasn’t the time to bring up Fabrien. Jesstin had never acted rational when he was worried about her. “I’m in a havre. They protect us at night.”
“Cloister here. Funny thing, it looks just like?—”
“The Night Soul.” She’d noted it on her first night, another reason she’d chosen the solace of havres instead.
“That can’t be coincidence, right?”
She cupped his cheek. “I really wish you’d stayed where you were safe.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Jesstin cast a nervous glance at the stained glass. The first hint of light sent colors dancing across the floor. “A havre. Where?”
“I... I don’t know. I never stay in the same one more than a couple of nights, and during the day, I move on. I rarely travel too far because the days aren’t always the same. Some are shorter. Some are longer. You cannot ever be out after dark. You were told that, right?”
Jesstin’s expression froze. “How long have you been here?”
“I should’ve counted. Weeks, I think.” Elloven shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
Jesstin slumped back. “You only died yesterday, Elloven.”
Her face tingled, the blood flowing away again. “But that’s...”
“Fuck. Fuck. We have to get out of this place. The havre you’re in, what’s outside?”
