“We should get some sleep,” I say. I don’t even remember the last time we ate, let alone got some rest. The cottage seems too distant a memory now.
Will lets me pull his feet toward me. I undo the laces of his boots and tug them off with ease. He’s a doll in my hands, a numb shell. When I have him standing, I kick off my shoes too and, being familiar with my house in the dark, have no trouble leading him up the stairs where each floorboard squeaks under our socks.
At the landing, I push open the door to my room. It’s not somewhere I spend much time, preferring to be downstairs in the shop, in the greenhouse, or outside in the sun, so it’s not much more than a simple square, a floral curtained window on the left, a pine wardrobe in the corner next to a small table with a vase of dried red geraniums,a candle, and a citrus-flavored lip balm Card gifted me for my birthday on it. I pause and consider the bed that I’ve spent the past weeks in, tossing and turning, obsessed with thoughts of Will. Now he’shereandmine,and yet it’s no time for celebration, no place for passion.
Lethargically, Will peels off his jacket and I follow suit, dropping the coat he lent me to the floor. He flicks his fingers, and a stir of magic cleans away the ash and dirt bathing us. It’s the tiniest brush of a spell, but it has Will swaying with lost balance.
“Okay. You need sleep,” I say.
“Don’t leave,” he croaks, voice raw from crying.
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” I say, and pull back the cotton bedsheet, nudging him forward.
Will settles down with his back against the wall. As protected as he can make himself. I clamber in too and nestle myself to his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft against my skin. I tuck my hands under my chin and close my eyes. There’s barely a hint of his chamomile scent left, but my flowers, this room,him,they smell like home. Safety. Will wraps his arms around my back, pulling me close for comfort, and intertwines our ankles. He leans his nose on top of my head and breathes deeply, his muscles slowly losing their tautness. Like loose-leaf tea soaking in hot water, the adrenaline of the day thaws. Distant clangs of armor accompany the nocturnal nightly shuffles, but we can pretend they don’t exist just for tonight. Just for now, it’s me and him.
After some time, Will stirs. His fingers twitch against my spine, and the buzz under my skin diffuses like spilled wine.
“The wedding is tomorrow…” he says. “I doubt the queen will let it be canceled after all the effort she’s put in.”
“Then we wake up early and find Bastion before the wedding starts,” I say. I shift back slightly to look into his eyes. It’s dark, but I can still make out the pallor of his tearstained cheeks. “We force him to sit still by any means necessary while we explain everything. I tried earlier, but…it didn’t go well.”
“And Cardamine?”
I don’t know. I don’t understand what Card is thinking, and there’s no way he’ll listen to me now. The trust between us shattered with a few built-up bluntly spoken truths. I slide my hands to the back of Will’s neck and breathe him in to soothe the squirm of discomfort.
It’s fine.Will is safe. We got out of there. We’re alive and not in the dungeons. Card will get over it. It’ll be a trivial thing he’ll shake off and laugh about…right? He thinks I betrayed him by not telling him everything and aligning with Will, but at that time, there were so many reasonsnotto tell him. The gray area between the truth and lies, the layers of privacy, they’ve never come between us like this before. He’s been my only friend, my lifeline, the one who stood by me when everyone else thought I was strange. But now, our mirrored hurt is shooting aimlessly, hitting hidden targets, and I can’t help feeling like something cracked between us that won’t be so easy to mend.
Will must notice my spiraling thoughts, because he tilts his head and kisses my forehead.
“Okay. We’ll fix it all tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll stop the spell from being used and let the truth be known.”
“About everything?”
“Everything. If we save his fiancé from certain doom, I’m pretty sure I can persuade Bash that he owes me enough to clear my name. Like you said, let’s keep trying,” Will says, and in the darkness, his mouth tugs into a small smile.
My chest lights up.He’s feeling better.No, not better.Hopeful.
My fingers wander to the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, and I twist the curls around them. I want to make him feel loved and safe and wanted. To rid him of the remorse he’s carrying, the burden of all that’s been done to him—that’s all I want right now. He runs a hand down my side, over my hip, all the way to the back of my knee, blazing a path of fire in the places he touches. He tugs my knee up so I’m hooked around his thigh and starts trailing a finger in circleson my leg. Under different circumstances, gods know where I’d want that hand to be heading.
“What will you do,” I ask breathlessly, “when you’re free? When all this is over?”
“This.”
“I was being serious.”
“So am I.”
His finger skims the back of my thigh. With his tears wiped away and the pieces of himself reassembling, I wonder if he finds this as healing as I do. If lying together acting like the outside world doesn’t exist is the only way he can summon a piece of joy. If I can make him forget, just for a little while. I’d stay here forever if it meant I’d never see him broken like that again. I’d let him do whatever he wants to me.
“I meant if you could do anything,” I say. “I want to know.”
Will mulls it over. He leans his head back to peer into nothingness.
“Well, I don’t often let myself think that far ahead, but I do miss the Library. Going back today made that clear. It’d be cool to join their alchemy department—testing the limits of magic, doing all sorts of wild experiments, being part of the first people to discover new areas of sorcery. Stuff like that. But only ifsheisn’t there anymore.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say, and use my thumb to stroke under his ear, my hand still roped in his hair. “Can I come and visit?”
He laughs, short but full of surprise.
