When Adrissu arrived back in his tower, he went straight to his study and picked up his book where he had left off. Vesper nudged her way onto his lap, coiling into a tight ball and looking up at him with her tiny black eyes. He could feel her concern and knew that she was worried about his constant tension of late. But he could not comfort her—he could not comfort himself—so he absently stroked the top of her head and said nothing.
He had been reading for a few hours when he heard the heavy wooden door downstairs swing open, and he knew it was Ruan. No one else would simply invite themselves into the tower the way that Ruan did—it was, after all, a second home to him now. Adrissu had never asked him to knock. The thought made his throat feel tight.
Ruan did not call out to him, but Adrissu could hear the dull thud of his footsteps coming up the stairs, then stop at the landing.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” the human’s voice came from behind him, tired and flat. Adrissu shook his head without turning to look. “You have,” Ruan pressed, his footsteps starting up again until the weight of his warm, rough hand pressed on Adrissu’s shoulder. “Please don’t be like this, not now.”
“I—” Adrissu started, bristling with irritation, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. “I am not trying to avoid you.”
Ruan sighed. Adrissu finally managed to muster enough strength to turn and look at him. The human had trimmed his beard, so it was tidy and short now; and although his hair was as messy as it ever was, he had at least pushed it back out of his eyes. His expression was hard to read: his eyes were tense, and his lips pursed.
“We... We march in three days,” he said. Adrissu shuddered. The cold feeling had not left his limbs once, not since the council had come to its decision, but now it pulsed painfully through his chest again like a shockwave. “And I... I just want to spend as much time with you as I can.”
The words should have brought him comfort, should have made him happy, should have filled his heart with affection. Now, it was only a cruel reminder thatRuan was going to die, and Adrissu could not stop himself from wincing. His eyes fell to Ruan’s feet.
“Of course,” he said simply; but from the way Ruan huffed, he knew that his response was not at all what the human wanted.
“Why are you being so cold?” he growled, stepping closer. “You haven’t been this distant to me in years, Adrissu. I thought we had put this behind us.”
“I—” he started, shaking his head. He had not meant to behave any differently, but he could not put into words how his chest felt like caving in every time he thought of Ruan—and of the bleak future that awaited them. Looking at him was like jabbing a tender bruise, sending fresh pain rattling through Adrissu. “I am not trying to be cold, Ruan. I am... afraid.”
“You think I’m not afraid?!” Ruan exclaimed. “Look at me!” Adrissu’s eyes flickered up to the human’s face, where his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. “You think I’m not frightened? Of course I am. The last thing I need is to lose you now, too. I came here because I love you. Because you comfort me. But if you’re going to act as if I don’t exist, as if you don’t care about me, I’d rather be alone.”
“I don’t want that,” Adrissu snapped, shaking his head. “You know I don’t want that.”
“I—” Ruan started, then pressed a hand to his eyes. He was crying. Adrissu’s heart squeezed again, and this time he roused himself up out of his chair and gathered the human into his arms. This feltright, like where they belonged, and he tried not to think about how it might be one of the last times he held Ruan. “Adrissu, I—of course I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”
Adrissu exhaled slowly. He wanted to scream that Ruan didn’t have to die: that the ritual would mean that the most important part of him would live on and come back to Adrissu, no matter what happened on the battlefield that he was so stupidly determined to fight upon—but he bit his tongue.
“Adrissu,” he said softly, pressing his face harder into Adrissu’s shoulder. “I—I want you to ask me.”
He thought his heart might stop. He couldn’t have heard Ruan right. With shaking hands he grabbed Ruan’s shoulders and pulled him away, enough to look him in the face and search his eyes. Ruan’s face was flushed, brows drawn, but there was an expectant look in his eyes. Years of begging, and this is what finally turned his heart? Could he have really heard him right?
“Ruan,” he said slowly, slow enough that Ruan could cut him off, in case he had heard the human incorrectly. “Please. You don’t have to die. You don’t have to be frightened. Will you let me bind our souls? Will you come back to me?”
Ruan was perfectly still in his hands, long enough that doubt started to creep up his ribs again. But then his eyelashes fluttered—he was blinking hard against tears—and the human nodded once, so quickly that it was more a jerk of his neck than anything else. Adrissu could barely breathe.
“You’re sure?” he asked breathlessly, and Ruan nodded silently again, eyes squeezing shut so hard that a stream of tears spilled from each closed lid.
“I thought—” he rasped, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought I would be braver in the face of all this.”
“You are brave,” Adrissu said, squeezing his arms. “Ruan. Youarebrave. This has nothing to do with being brave or not. There is only us. Is this what you want? To know you’ll come back, you’ll find me again, no matter what happens?”
“Yes,” Ruan sobbed, finally breaking. “Of course I fucking want that. I don’t care if that means we’re playing gods, or cheating death, or anything. I just want to be with you forever.”
Adrissu grabbed Ruan by his face and smashed their lips together, kissing him frantically. Every inch of him was crying out in relief. Ruan was intrinsically a part of him now, soaked deep into his skin, his blood, his heart. The taste of him on his lips was as familiar as air, as water, and he would never have to leave it behind.
“I love you,” he breathed, finally pulling away. Ruan gasped for breath against him, nodding his head silently. “Let’s do it right now—the ritual. I can do it right now.” He said nothing about the part of him that was afraid Ruan would change his mind again if he waited too long.
Ruan licked his lips, his nerves still obvious, but he nodded. “Okay. Yes. What do I need to do?”
“Wait here,” Adrissu said, then flitted to the other side of his study. The components of the ritual were all stored together in a wooden crate—the herbs, the wood, the beryl bowl, a silver knife to draw blood. Atop it sat the scroll that described the ritual and its runes, and in an ivory case next to that, the red paint with which to mark them. With shaking hands, Adrissu gathered everything in a canvas bag and handed it to Ruan.
“Hold this,” he said, placing the bag in one of Ruan’s hands and clasping the other with his own, if only to still the trembling of his fingers. “Come with me. We’ll have to do this down below. It takes up too much room.”
“Okay,” Ruan breathed. He slung the bag over one shoulder, waiting as Adrissu pulled the hatch open. When Adrissu stood, he wrapped his arms around Ruan’s waist again. The human held him tightly, eyes full of trust.
Adrissu pressed a kiss to his forehead, then plunged them both into darkness. Ruan’s breathing quickened as they fell—it always did—but his hold around Adrissu never wavered, even as his body transformed around him. With his claws he held Ruan tightly against him as he glided down through the tunnel, out of the empty landing room, and into the room he had intended to use as his nest so long ago. It was so rare that he slept down here anymore.
