I crouch beside her, my hands trembling with hesitation. Her shirt is torn, and no doubt she’d appreciate having a new one on, but I’m not ready to look at the remnants of that damage.
“Let me,” Seth says, squeezing my shoulder.
Yep, even that muscle hurts. I back away, pace, then decide to rummage uselessly through the bags while Seth slips her out of the ruined shirt and into a fresh one. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for when my fingers brush glass. Wine.
Two bottles, and in Seth’s bag – of course.
I pull them out and rejoin him. The fresh shirt sits a little awkwardly and twisted on her, but it’s still a big improvement, except for the blood. Seth’s propped against the rough edge of the pool with Kitten in his arms.
He points to the discarded rag and says, “I’m stuck.”
Which is a solution to my issue with the blood. I grab the garment and realize he’s already dipped a clean corner into the pool. He must have washed her back, then sat with her and couldn’t reach to finish the job. Kneeling beside them, I wipe Kitten’s face and neck clean. Her breathing is steady under my touch, in too deep a sleep to stir. I wipe her hair back from her face, then drop the rag on the stone and offer him a drink.
He gives me a lopsided smile, pops the cork with his teeth and sips loudly before asking, “Is she in pain?”
I sit by his side, close enough for her head to rest against my arm.
“No,” I whisper, popping my own cork and lifting the bottle to my lips.
I’m intending a sip, but the liquid is too smooth and refreshing. The bottle is almost gone before I know it.
Seth chuckles at me and leans back.
“This rock is the perfect height,” he says.
I mumble in agreement and mirror his relaxed recline, my eyes drifting closed.
“Was that your 50-50-90 rule?” he asks all of a sudden. I stare at him, completely taken by surprise until he goes on. “In the Spring. There was 50-50 chance we’d either sink or swim, and a 90 percent chance that life isn’t that simple and something was going to fuck up.”
I snort and nod. That’s all I can manage.
The silence doesn’t last long before he asks a new question. “Was it us going into the Spring that brought down the barrier?”
“I’m going to pin it on that since I see no other logical force that could have brought it down without those Sabers slipping their Concealers first. It makes no sense.”
Silence settles again, each of us just trying to breathe and sip. Breathe and sip.
“We have to go back,” he says.
“Where?”
“To the White Castle. I can feel the pull.”
“You don’t want to?” I ask.
“Nope. I don’t want to move.”
“Me either.” I search my mind for anything else of importance before reaching into my pocket and pulling out Kitten’s egg. I’m almost grateful that everything we needed was easily grabbed, then realization hits me, and I groan hard. “We have to go back for Eydis’ potions though.”
“What potions?”
“The ones we need to destroy Lithael’s souls. The ones Eydis had in the cellar. And the Spring itself. We can’t leave it unguarded.” I groan at the mammoth-sized problem I just dragged into the forefront of my mind.
“It’ll be safe to go back tomorrow, nothing but bodies,” he says.
I open my mouth to speak, and we end up saying the exact same thing, “Just not her.”
“She’ll need to be at the White Castle eventually,” I state, a fact that leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. “The Castle’s calling to her too. It might have been the last piece to the puzzle that saved us.”
“I felt it, that connecting bond. Does that make us the first genuine Pentad? I mean, how is it even possible that the magic could bind us this far from a Castle?”
He’s right. Most Sabers are called to the gates of the castles. They’re technically stuck within a tight radius until their full team arrives – almost always triunes – then the Dignitaries preside over the moment they form a circle and try to bond. The complete triune is awarded a leader, recently termed a Commander, whoever is the only one left standing when the magic hits. And the magic did hit us, tripling our own power. A genuine pentad despite the loophole Pax formed in the lore.
“I have no idea,” I admit. “But I hope Pax has a plan because I don’t want her there until she can stand on her own Saber feet.”
“You and me both, brother.”
Morning fades into noon, but the giant vines like the shadows and keep most of the forest in shade. The perfect temperature to nap, and Aeons, does my power need it. It would be better if Seth didn’t fidget so often, and if every breath and stir from Kitten didn’t jolt me awake.
“Is she in pain?” Seth asks for the millionth time.
“No,” I answer for the millionth time.
I rub my head, brushing now dry blood from my hair. She healed us – it makes no sense.
The mortal has had less than a day with her Saber soul, and she healed us.
We’re alive because of her.
No Bubble
The world awakens in feelings first. The feel of Seth underneath me, a mallow that smells of citrus and cherries and is the only one of them broad enough to almost be a bed. Man-bed – maed. No, that can’t be right. Bed-man – Bam?
I like bam, and I snuggle a little into him, noticing the smooth-as-silk sensation of glass on my wrist. I run my thumb across my fingers, just a
