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“I was never truly in danger,” Gray huffed.

My eyebrows rose skyward. “My understanding is that Axios spits acid. I don’t think even your wisp form can survive that.”

Gray’s answer was a stubborn huff followed by “Axios was too enthralled to think about harming me.”

Something in my soul settled, that fearful knot I’d been carrying beginning to ease. It would take a lot more to untangle it completely. “I am pleased to hear it.”

“You should be. I’m not some wet-behind-the-ears will-o’-the-wisp, you know.”

A grin stretched my cheeks. “Of course you aren’t.”

Two more huffs were my answer before Gray relaxed into my hold. If I could, I’d stop time. Nothing could be more perfect than holding Gray to me, his scent surrounding me as his warmth thawed the cold my worries created.

But Time was ever fickle, even now. Gray might yet be tired, despite sleeping for hours. Keir had promised to wait twenty-four hours before heading topside with the eggs. If I knew Keir—and I was positive I did—then he wouldn’t expect any of us to go with him. I had no intention of sending him out there alone.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Gray accused.

“How can you tell?” Considering Gray no longer had a piece of my magic as his own personal mood ring, I honestly wondered.

He shrugged within my arms. “It’s not difficult to tell. You get all tense and your heart slows.”

“It slows?” Shouldn’t my heart speed up if I was contemplating something serious?

“Mm-hmm.” Gray’s fingers tapped over my chest. “It’s not a bad thing, and I doubt too many others can tell. I can.”

Another knot of unease released.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Gray said.

Inhaling, Gray’s body rose and fell with my intake and exhale. “Keir.”

Gray scoffed. “Yeah, he thinks he’s going out there all alone and that we’re all just gonna stay tucked away inside our safe pixie-protected bubble.” Gray pulled away and I instantly missed his warmth. With another yawn and deep stretch, Gray rolled his shoulders before standing. Holding a hand out to me, Gray said, “Come on. Let’s go see what Keir’s up to. Twenty bucks says he’ll try and sneak out before his promised twenty-four hours are up.”

I wasn’t about to take that bet. Instead, I grasped Gray’s hand and allowed him to help pull me up. We’d discuss the future later. Assuming there was a future to discuss.

Thirty-One

Grayson

Martin was back! He was well and truly back. Relief sang through me like water through a desert. I felt like I could breathe again, like anything and everything was possible. The ground below my feet was soft as a cloud and my strides were just as airy. Walking down the hall, I refused to release Keir’s hand. His flesh-covered bones felt too good. Not that I didn’t like his tree form, but it was too close to the time when I worried I’d never get to see his serious, humanoid features again.

Our walk was made mostly in silence with the occasional gasped remark regarding the state of the compound. Cracks ran through nearly every wall and along the ceiling. Debris littered the halls, and dirt and gravel could be heard filtering through areas in the walls. I seriously questioned the stability of the compound and wondered if we were safer inside or out.

We arrived at Keir’s door, relieved to see that it seemed to be standing. I was also relieved and not the least bit surprised to see Tabitha and Jima had beaten us to Keir’s door.

“What took ya so long?” Henry said, evidently present as well and situated on Jima’s shoulder.

Tabitha tsked. “As if we’ve been here all that long.”

“It has only been a few moments,” Elvira agreed. Her form was much hazier than typical, and I could see the wall through her body. Still, she was there which meant Tabitha had regained enough strength to manifest her.

I suddenly remembered that Tabitha wasn’t alone in her quarters and asked, “Is Navarre all right?”

Flat hand held aloft, Tabitha tilted it back and forth. “Sort of. It is always difficult to tell with Navarre. I can say that he is not physically injured. Little Fang also seems unharmed, although she is very upset and jittery.”

“Sounds about right,” Henry sagely agreed. “Can’t say I feel much different than the predatory cat.”

Martin leaned over and whispered, “Henry and Little Fang have a bit of history.”