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"Every night?" I whispered.

"Until the day I die."

I searched his face. He meant every word and my heart could not take it.

"Tomorrow then," I managed.

He nodded once. His hand was still trembling.

I looked at him one more time. Then I turned to go.

I had taken three steps before I stopped. Eravic had said I wasn't ready. Perhaps he had underestimated what desperation could accomplish.

I turned back and ran at the ward and pushed through it. His arms closed around me before I had fully understood that I had crossed. A sound tore out of me against his chest, one that had been waiting since the night of the dinner.

"You are not supposed to⁠—"

"I cannot survive it," I said. I looked up at him. "I cannot survive this separation from the one person..."

His arms tightened. His chin came down on top of my head.

"I know," he said, his voice rough against my hair. "I know."

The rest dissolved into a sob I had been holding back for days. Maybe weeks.

"We were perfect."

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

His eyes searched every part of my face as though he expected me to disappear if he blinked.

"We still can be," he whispered.

His thumbs brushed away tears that refused to stop falling.

Neither of us moved. We simply breathed the same air again.

"Every night I tell myself I'll make it until tomorrow," he said quietly. "Every morning I discover I lied."

I cupped his face.

"I'm here."

His eyes closed.

Then his mouth met mine, and nothing existed. Not Morrath, not the poison, not the war, not the ward.

We stayed like that for a long while, kissing with the slow relief of people who had already lost each other once.

Every kiss became proof. Proof that he was alive. Proof that I was alive. Proof that this was real.

His lips moved over mine with careful pressure at first, then deeper, his tongue finding mine as though he could drink the weeks of grief straight from my mouth. I held his shoulders, feeling the faint shake in them, and answered in kind.

He drew back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and raw.

"Asha Bear," he said, his voice rough. "I missed you," he whispered, as though the words were too small for what they carried.

Then he kissed me again, slower, one hand sliding down to rest over my heart.