“Will you have enough?” he asked, facing away. “No point in you having to come back down.”
“I have enough,” she croaked. On the road, she’d begun to appreciate the weight of their bond. It wasn’t merely physical distance that was painful but also emotional. When she was focused on something else, she hardly noticed it, but when they were near each other, when the rest of the world was occupied, it was so potent.
Elloven needed to free them both of the agony, but if the man who’d called himself her uncle was to be believed, the only remedy was to bond with another, which was a terrible solution. But if she had to, she would do it. For him. She would do it for Jesstin because she was the reason his entire life had been upended. Never mind that he’d have died otherwise; he didn’t seem to think that was a strong enough justification.
“Night then,” he muttered and started down the steps.
“Jesstin.”
He paused.
“I’ll fix this, so you can go home to your family.”
His head shook at the blankets in his arms. “Elloven, you heard the pretor. There’s only one way, and in case you hadn’t picked up where that was going, they’ll have you bond with Considine. They knew you were coming, and they knew who with.”
“Why would you think that?” Taven might want that, but it surprised her to hear Jesstin suggest Estelar, or anyone, would care at all.
“Just my read on things. We’ll figure something else out.” He turned, finally looking at her. Red lines cut through the whites of his tired eyes, dark bags pulling at the undersides. “Unless it’s what you want, to bond with him.”
All she could do was shake her head. Words had never come easily in the hard moments.
He nodded, his gaze trailing off.
“I sensed none of that from them, Jesstin. They’re family. I think. I’ve been waiting so many years, and I...” She hung her head.
Jesstin spun all the way around. “Has it occurred to you that, for all their hospitality, your family might not have your best interests in mind?”
It hadn’t, which startled her. Her trust in others had been whittled to dust long ago. But how could she explain the explosive feeling she was exactly where she was meant to be? The certainty that she was home?
Even her name felt right. Aelloven. Jesstin wasn’t the only one who could reinvent themselves.
He sighed, shook his head, and went downstairs.
Jesstin fell asleep on the hard, cold floor right away.
He was in the old monastery again, but the place was different from the last time.
Part of the room had come to life. The dining table at the far end had been polished to gleaming and had enough place settings and decor for a royal banquet. The nearby serving tables were still in disrepair, and so was most everything else, but in that one, single corner, there was color and light and coziness.
“When did you redecorate?” Elloven said at his side. He hadn’t heard her approach. She was dressed as a midnight widow again, but this dress was a slim, gauzy number of black satin.
Jesstin looked at her and did a double take. The unforgiving dress clung to every inch of her, revealing an incredible outline of soft roundness and traceable curves. The effect was... exquisite. “This wasn’t your handiwork?”
Her eyes went wide. “Do you walk into others’ homes and move things around?”
“No, but now that you say it, I think I will.”
“Besides, how would I even know how? You invented the place.”
“I didn’t know you could come here, so maybe I don’t understand the rules either.” He crossed his arms as they took in the festive dining space. Was it any more real than her? Than him? Did his subconscious summon her and the lavish improvements?
The Night Soul unburdened him of his fractured relationship with the world. It had always been a shelter. There was no reason to believe it wasn’t still.
“Do you smell that?” She lifted her nose with a sniff.
He didn’t at first, but then he took another breath. “Is that... bread pudding?”
“And mulled wine?”
