***
Shae sits in front of Arthur in the saddle, fingers tangled in a death grip in Duchess’s mane as the mare lopes forward beneath him. Her long strides eat up the countryside, and Shae would have fallen off immediately if Arthur’s strong arms weren’t around him, his broad chest pressed tight to Shae’s back. Even the overwhelming, musky scent of him can’t ease the twisting in Shae’s stomach.
They don’t head for the tower. Worry drives them south and east towards Lanwatch. It’s the largest collection of souls within fifty miles, and after his long imprisonment, Izen will be hungry.
Shae wants to trust the Charaini border defenses, but he’s been self-absorbed for too long. He can’t let anyone else get hurt by his recklessness.
Arthur agrees immediately, because of course he does. He’s far too good for Shae.
“Are you doing okay?” Shae asks. He’s worried about Arthur’s stitched-up arm.
Arthur laughs, the sound rumbling through Shae’s entire body. “I should be asking you—Radiance.” His laughter disappears. Now, all Shae feels is tension at his back. “I feel something up ahead.”
He reins Duchess in so sharply that Shae jerks forward in the saddle. They’re at the very edge of the dark forest. Dizzy, he looks up and sees a plume of shadows in the sky above, just as one of his rings flares. The shadow twines like a serpent in the sky, winding back and forth in the same place. Occasionally it pushes forward, and blue magic sparks around it.
The Charaini wards are still holding strong.
“I guess we don’t have to warn Lanwatch,” Shae says, his mouth dry. “If he gets in…” More people will die.
“The city’s not defenseless, and the order is close enough to realize something’s happening. They can provide backup, and demons are their specialty,” Arthur says. “What happens if they kill Izen before you can banish him?”
Shae’s breath hitches. All right, maybe he should have been a bitmoreself-centered. That hadn’t even occurred to him, in the rush of everything happening. “If he dies on this plane of existence, I’m stuck with these powers forever. I’m stuck with the cold.” He twists around in the saddle, trying to look up at Arthur. “We need to go, maybe we can get there before he breaks in. I need to get close enough to cast the banishing.”
But Arthur doesn’t kick Duchess forward. “He seemed interested in you, when we ran into him on the road,” Arthur says slowly. One of his hands drops to Shae’s thigh, burning through his clothing. “Can you draw him away from the city instead?”
Shae takes a shaky breath. His throat hurts. He remembers cold, rotten lips on his, nausea surging through him. His voice is tight when he answers, “I think so.”
It’s time to stop hiding.
They dismount in a clear spot of dirt and low grasses. Incongruously bright wildflowers pepper the land with yellow and white. Shae lands shakily and wants to lean on Arthur forever for support, but forces himself to pull away. He clears a hard patch of earth with his foot and starts rolling up his sleeve with practiced movements.
Arthur grabs his wrist before he can draw his knife.
The harsh words ready on Shae’s lips melt away at the intensity in Arthur’s eyes.
“I really don’t like watching you do that,” Arthur says. “Can you use my blood instead?”
The stitches are still visible past his torn sleeve, white thread against red, raw skin. Shae can’t tell whether he wants to laugh or cry. “I’ve spilled enough of your blood today.”
“This?” Arthur flexes his arm. “That’s barely anything. Here.” He scratches one of the smaller cuts on his arm, breaking open the scab.
Shae’s stomach flips, torn between nausea and overwhelming affection. Is this how sick Arthur felt watching him cut himself? Somehow it’s different when it’s Arthur’s skin, not his own. “Fine,” Shae whispers, then holds out his hand and switches to Lyrisenian. “Life’s blood, come to me.”
He nearly loses his nerve when Arthur grunts in pain. But he holds steady, unwilling to waste this gift. Blood spills from Arthur’s arm and pools into a coin-sized sphere, floating in midair. It reflects and holds the cloud-filtered sunlight. Like it’s the brightest color in the landscape.
Shae fumbles a vial from his belt pouch. The blood floats into it. “If I need more, I’m taking my own.”
“Sure.” Arthur shouldn’t be smiling right now, but he is. “What should I do now?”
Shae takes a deep breath. Shadows and blue light still flash back and forth above, testing each others’ strength. “Can you put up one of your paladin wards? I’ll draw his attention and then start drawing the banishing array. I just need you to hold him away until it’s ready.”
Arthur leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “I can do that,” he says, and starts walking a wide circle around them. Duchess stands very still nearby, her ears pricked southwards, entirely uninterested in grazing. Magic shimmers in the air around and above them as Arthur walks, until they’re encircled in a barely-visible dome of shimmering gold. It’s stronger than the wards Arthur’s used before.
Shae waits until he feels the warmth of Arthur’s magic wash through him, then starts taking off his rings.
It’s more difficult than he expected. Mentally, at least. He’s worn some of these rings for nearly ten years, adding more every time he realized there was something new to hide from, something new to detect ahead. He’s taken them off to renew the spells, or to change rings when his hands grew, or when he could afford better silver, but it’s been at least nine years since his hands were completely bare.
He drops the first ring to the ground. The one that detects ghosts. Then the one that detects demons. The rings fall to the ground with barely a sound, and Shae’s hands stay steady, the same steadiness he relies on when closing dead eyes and laying bodies to rest.
