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“No.” Irvin shakes his head. “Now I remember why I have no stomach for politics.”
“But you’ll help us?” Arsene presses.
“Of course,” he says firmly. “You saved my kid, remember? I owe you, even if I think your plan is batshit.”
“I can purify his soul. It worked before,” Arsene insists.
Nur interjects. “It made you sick.”
“That’s whatthisis for.” He shakes the bottle with the green cap. “I’ve withstood the serum—I can handle it.”
“This will be worse than what you’ve endured,” Irvin says grimly. “Much worse. I’ve seen the corruption take many people. It’s ugly.”
“Isn’t it what he faces every day?” he demands, pointing at Nur. Nur hides almost everything from the bond, but what does come through is often troubled and hurting.
“I’m used to it.” Nur’s quiet rasp is resigned.
“Then let me become used to it, too. Let me take on some of your pain.” He grabs Nur’s hands, and his mate twists and hides his eyes. “It’s like you said—I want you to be free to make the choice youneed, not be stuck choosing me out of fear.”
Nur’s eyes are shadowed. “I don’t need you to hurt for me.”
“Iwantto do this.” He squeezes Nur’s hands. “Please. Didn’t it help the first time? You said you can bear the hunger now.”
“Yes, but—” Nur makes a noise of frustration.
Irvin rises, and Arsene barely notices him slide out of the tent. He’s stuck on Nur, the way his brow pulls into a tortured frown and he hunches in on himself.
“I’m willing. Eager, even,” he presses.
“What if you’re only doing it because of the thrall? Because of the bond?” The words tumble out of Nur like stones. “When you’re away from its influence, you’ll come to your senses. If I agree to do this, I’ll be no better than your Council. Using you for my own ends.”
“No. Listen.” He gets to his knees, crouching between Nur’s thighs. Nur’s eyes seem to follow him unwillingly. He’s such a beautiful contradiction, full of such confidence yet unable to accept care. “You’re nothing like them—you made me better. You showed me another way. I trust you. Now I want to return the favor.”
“You trusted them.”
“Not with my heart.” He brings his forehead to Nur’s knuckles. Nur’s heartbeat hammers in his ears.
“Your heart?” Nur’s voice is hardly above a whisper. Arsene feels the hurt in his voice as if it’s his own. Why does ithurt?
The breath leaves his lungs as Nur disentangles their hands. He’s frozen, waiting for the blow—Nur doesn’twanthis heart, is repulsed by the idea. It’s too much.
Then Nur’s hands are on his face, lifting him up, and he kisses Arsene like he’s trying to crawl inside him. For a moment the bond flares so sun-bright he can’t tell where he ends and Nur begins. Certainty overtakes him. he was meant to be here.
He was meant to do everything wrong, so he could do everything right.
Nur’s eyes blaze. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
It’s an inelegant plan:he and Nur will exchange blood for ichor. Arsene’s theory is that his healing abilities will purify the ichor and the soul within it so it can be transferred back. Between transfers, Irvin will administer the sentinel serum to keep him strong.
It’s as simple as it can be, but it requires Irvin’s expertise as a doctor and a good amount of his equipment, and Irvin is reluctant even with Arsene’s reassurance. It takes him little time to set up the necessary contraption, but he fusses over it for a good few hours.
“You don’t need to be so cautious,” Arsene tells him.
Irvin gives him a dark look. “Since I can’t talk you out of this, at least let me make it as sane as possible.”
“He’s nervous,” Nur tells him when they finally leave Irvin behind in the tent. “I’mnervous. This is unthinkable.”
“I’m not nervous at all.” Arsene shovels more food into his mouth. Sure, there’s plenty that could go sideways. What if he’s wrong? What if hecan’terase the corruption from Nur’s soul?
