The Heirs of Death

39. Black Mirror

Leon entered the bathroom on silent steps, the leathers already most likely finding their way on the shelf. He stood behind me, planting a kiss on my forehead before I heard the muffled thud of all the steel strapped to him over the suit he discarded. So many weapons-just like when I'd first met him.

He gently nudged me to the side, sliding into the water with a groan. My head found its place tucked beneath his chin, a whisper of magic drifting away the foam that tickled my nose as one of his arms fell around my waist, fingers carelessly going up and down. I let out a breath as though a heavy weight had been pushed off my shoulders, staring with half-closed eyes at the idle patterns I drew on his chest, just above his heart.

His free hand flicked my nose before going through my hair, ruffling it, before flicking it again as I lightly pinched him. I pinched him once more, a soft rumble making his chest vibrate, and he tucked me even closer. I found myself holding him tighter-so tight it seemed he'd fade away if I let go-going on about what happened today. All of it: the duties, the prisoners, the dungeons. And he'd listened, even though he knew them all through the bond. Knew what words Ha-ámej had used, what I'd seen afterwards. The nightmare, too.

We fell silent for the few minutes that came next; it had been a while since there had been a serene silence like this one. He shifted slightly, pulling me deeper into his embrace. "Do you really trust him?"

Thin, golden shimmers seeped from my fingers, running over his skin with each movement. ''I think so.'' He knew. And he could have told Blake, could have traded it for his freedom. Perhaps it really had been a fool's mistake, going this deep into his cell, but not a drop of magic sparked to pull me away. My powers had wanted me there with him, had wanted to listen to his fog.

We didn't bother communicating through a bridge here, the rooms warded so heavily against any sort of magic, each day recasting the spell to make sure it remained impeccable. Impenetrable.

"What about the things he gave you?"

"Safe.'' In a pocket within the world, with what very little of Arowcinders remained, and all the secrets I'd stole and didn't risk sending about them to Téors or the castle. "There's still to know what the Aubarios is and finding it."

"You will go through it, finding and breaking it, won't you?"

I hummed in response, the patterns I drew vanishing with a breath. "We can play this game for years, until war breaks. There are no ends, no completed missions. If the Aubarios is truly worthy, and if it is implied in bringing him back, then I will go through it.''

Téors had told us we were Cantelot's last chance, and we worked, we schemed, we plotted in the war rooms, in the dungeons, in lands days away from here. But there was a line I would not allow crossing-not yet, at least. Because there would be no turning back. Yet my cards were running short, too, and I didn't know how long we'd last before being eliminated.

''There is still knowing what it is and where to find it, first.''

"I think I might have a starting point.''

I lifted my head, staring at this still-strange face with arched eyebrows. "You do?"

He winked. "Let's say I've been in the queen's good graces long enough for her to confine in me where the continent's greatest resource of information and spells is.''