Her fingers slipped up to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him down with more insistence than strength. A whispered tug. A plea written in touch instead of words. Their lips met—soft at first. Searching—for herself, for anchoring, for the steady, endless love he always gave her without reservation. And in turn, he searched for her in the fog of her pain, her grief, and her lingering fear. Not of death, but offailing—of reaching but never touching.
She reached now. Kissed him not with fire—but withknowing. Like she remembered every time he’d ever given her his hand in chaos and was searching for all of them at once. He cupped her cheek, anchoring them both in that single point of contact. His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. His lips shaped themselves to hers.
And when they parted, he murmured against her mouth, “There you are.”
“You found me,” she breathed.
“My breath can never stray too far for me to reach,” he promised. “I’ll always find you and give you life again.”
“Then…can I sleep? Here?” she asked, placing her hand over his heart. “Just a little longer?”
“You never have to ask.”
He tipped up her chin, and their lips met once more. In breath. In union. Azure mana flowed from his cup to hers, and she took all of him into her core. With a sigh of relief, she let her soul wander from her skin, curling just beneath his ribs in the place where his heart beat in their Bond.
Leaving the fear, the death, the blood—even her fragile hope—behind, she closed her eyes and let his breath carry her to shelter.
32
The Spider's Loving Web
She dreamed of wings.
Black, oiled, gleaming in the night.
Of claws and talons.
Of dusky skin and beaded braids.
And eyes.
Deep. Violet. Eternal.
A glaive at her throat.
The Jade Lattice cracking upwards and collapsing.
Ash and dust and screams and blood.
Vargrún’s voice rumbled in her ear—
You should wake, emberling. Before you worry more than just your Resh’Agar. Or should I say—before your vulnerability catches the wrong kind of attention?
She couldn’t wake. Not with those eyes watching her. Not with the promise in them. She knew not what the nature of the vow was. Her death? Her ruin? Her destruction?
She ran and ran, but her feet moved too slowly.
If she couldn’t move, she would be crushed. Glass, crystal, and stone fell from above. The Shields groaned and fizzled. Dying. Leaving Krystopolis in cold and hunger.
He’s near, you know. The one who wears your Silari’s face and calls himself his brother.
Always watching.
Like me.
But unlike my eyes, his linger far too long for all the wrong reasons.
Auryn awoke with a gasp. Images swirled in her mind’s eye—blurred, vague. A warning from a distant sky spoken in a voice closer than her heart. Something reaching out its hand. Calling for her. Violet eyes in the pitch.
