“Are there any…unlinking glyphs?” I asked.
“No, there aren’t,” his tone was firm.
“What if we tried, I don’t know, messing up any magic in it with more Skinscript ink?”
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” he deadpanned.
My temper flared to life. “Oh, and what’s your brilliant plan then?”
“Not to use ourselves as living experiments? Especially since our heartbeats are linked together now?” He made a gruff noise. “Do you have any clue how dangerous it is to try to mess with unknown Skinscript?”
I shrugged. “Can’t be worse than being linked to you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve no idea how much worse it could be.”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You’re linked to someone who is already a Voyager. Someone already fully trained, who has earned enough Skinscript to protect himself. I’m linked to someone inexperienced, untrained, whose only glyph is a wild card that neither of us fully understands.”
“Well, excuse me for not being perfect like you!” I pushed up to stand.
“You haven’t even considered what this is, have you?” He said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.
“No, I’m clearly just an unskilled untrained idiot.” I took a step away from him. “Who doesn’t know anything.”
His voice stopped me before I reached the door. “What happens if one of us dies? Have you thought about that?”
I hadn’t. Not really. I stood, clenching and unclenching my fists while taking slow calming breaths.
“Does it even matter to you?” He asked. “That if our hearts are linked and one of them stops beating…”
“Of course it matters,” I snapped, turning to face him again. “But we can’t remove these glyphs, and there isn’t another one that can undo them either. We can’t do anything about it. And nothing like that would happen anyway.”
“Wecando something about it,” Zevrial argued, pushing himself back up to a standing position with a wince. “You’re inexperienced and untrained now.” I glowered. “But that’s not an insult.”
It sure feels like one.
“I can defend myself, well enough that there isn’t much risk of anything doing enough damage to kill me,” he continued.
“Yeah, you did a bang-up job defending yourself against whatever did that,” I gestured to the bandage beneath his shirt.
“That was,” he sighed. “…Unavoidable. And not something that came anywhere near killing me. You on the other hand…”
“So that’s how it is? You want me to wash out? Go find a tower somewhere to hide in so that I don’t become your vulnerability?”
“No. I was wrong to say you were giving up without trying. I didn’t know you were pushing yourself toward injury.”
That sounded dangerously close to an apology. I crossed my arms, listening.
“But being a Voyager, there are monstrous things we have to face that could undoubtedly kill us. Every day. The risks don’t go away because you hide. I want you to become as strong as me. Stronger, even. And if you can’t, then become more clever. Someone who doesn’t need protecting, because she can protect herself.”
My mind flashed to Orin, punching my lights out in the pouring rain. I clenched my teeth.
I hated that he was right. I hated that despite all the training I’d done, I was still one of the weakest trainees here. I could be taken out far too easily. My shoulders sagged as the wind left my sails. “What are you proposing I do about it?”
“You’re already doing it.” His voice brushed against me, low and smooth. It made my heart flutter, even though I tried to hang onto my irritation. “Keep training. But stop pushing yourself too hard. I’ll give you two Skinscripts that will help you, along with one of your choosing. Pass the final and graduate, so you can earn another. Don’t take reckless risks that could putboth of us in danger. Accept help when you’re struggling.” He shook his head. “And for the love of all that is holy, get your stamina up high enough that your heart isn’t racing all the time. I’m drained almost every day.”
I scowled at him. But a pinprick of guilt settled in the back of my throat as I glanced at where I had accidentally ripped his stitches open. Had he been distracted or weakened because of my lack of stamina?
