She takes his hand, puts it down in his lap, ‘You idiot.’
‘I can do it.’
She furrows her brow, unconvinced. ‘How did they teach it at the Aestering?’
He thins his lips into a line. ‘They didn’t. But I can do it.’
‘Can you?’ Her eyes are fire in the half-light. ‘Can you really?’
He nods. ‘I can. I know I can. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Since before the war.’
She watches his lips. ‘Since then? Why?’
‘I thought we might need it to take down the Emperor. In the end.’
‘That was more of a group endeavour,’ she mutters.
He grimaces. ‘I know.’
She takes his hand again, holds it tight between her palms.
‘You can do this? Safely? Do it and get out alive?’
‘I think so.’
She raises an eyebrow as she gently pushes him down onto the bedroll. ‘I could have done with a stronger endorsement there.’
He’s thin under her, the sharp, hollow lines of his face picked out by the shadows. Something like the ghost of an owl. Tired. Frightened. Beautiful.
‘I can do it.’ He says, and she hears the truth in his voice. Somewhere inside her, a knot of fear relaxes.
She adjusts so her head’s on his chest, puts an arm over his ribs. Wills her breathing to slow just a notch, the hammer of her heart to drop its drum.
‘Do they know? Kinghammer? Skinpainter? Do they know what the unbinding will do?’
He kisses her hair, lets his lips linger, talks down into her skull. ‘Only Skinpainter. Only they were there at the end. The real end of the Empire.’
‘And they’re OK with it?’
‘They understand sacrifice. Understand the need to hold the line. Better than anyone.’
She strokes his hair, methodically unbuttons his shirt and shucks him out his robes.
‘And my job’s going to be what? Stopping Kinghammer from braining you?’
He laughs, slides under the covers with her. ‘For starters, yes.’
They’re quiet then, taking a moment to be just skin and skin. Part of her heart loves it, this moment of closeness, of peace. The other part of her wonders if her body will betray her. If, somehow, he’ll see all the fear, all the worry creep out of her skin.
She holds him tight anyway. It’s worth the risk.
‘Why have we never talked about this before, love? We’re a little down to the wire.’
His fingers stroke her shoulders, finding the knots.
‘I …’
She shifts, kisses his neck. ‘What, string-bean?’
