“So I just need you to trust me on this,” he continued, holding Adrissu’s gaze. “Can you please just trust me? I know you don’t like it, Adrissu, but this is something I have to do. I have to try.”
Every draconic instinct in him demanded to refuse, to hide Kian away where he would be safe forever, to never let him do anything that could bring him harm. But he knew it would be impossible, even if that was what he truly wanted. Kian was his own person, stubborn and passionate, even if Adrissu’s innermost heart wanted to hide him away from the world with the rest of his hoard. But the human was not part of his hoard, not really. In the end, he had barely any more control over Kian than he did the weather or the stars.
He took in a deep breath, and on the long exhale, let go of every part of him that wanted to burn all his notes and destroy all the evidence of his experiments. Kian was going to do what he wanted, and Adrissu could either be there to help or be shut out. And if the absolute worst happened—if Kian died because of his experimental magic—Adrissu at least had the tiny shred of comfort that he would have another lifetime to try it again. Hopefully, it would not come to that; but if it did, Adrissu had survived three of his mate’s deaths before. There was nothing he could not survive now.
“I trust you,” he murmured, lifting one hand to cup Kian’s soft cheek. “I won’t fight you on this anymore. If this is what you want to do, then I only want to help.”
Kian’s smile widened, and he leaned up to kiss Adrissu. “Thank you,” he said softly, then added in a much more self-satisfied tone, “That’s what I like to hear.”
Adrissu smirked and released him. Something inside of him still felt hollow at the concession, but there was nothing else to do.
It was only a few weeks later that Kian said he thought he was ready to try the ritual.
“You’re sure?” Adrissu asked, meeting the human’s gaze steadily. Kian’s expression never wavered as he nodded once, sharply, watching Adrissu with an expression he could not place. “Then what do you need from me?”
Kian’s expression remained uncertain for only a moment, then he managed a smile. “Well, I’ll need a lot more clay, for one. And probably more charcoal. It’s going to be a much bigger circle than the ones we’ve done before.”
Adrissu forced himself to smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He wanted to drag his feet ordering more charcoal for the runes, but he did not. He wanted to say that he couldn’t procure enough clay locally and would have to go out of town to get more, but he did not. At the end of the week, he had everything ready for Kian. But by then, the human had lost a bit of his gusto about it, and Kian made plans to perform the ritual the following week instead.
Waiting was a relief, and absolute torture, all at once. Adrissu couldn’t shake the fear that something was going to go wrong; and for all Kian’s bravado, he seemed more and more nervous with each passing day, so they were both tense and short with each other, which only made the wait more miserable. Adrissu spent as much time as he could at the school to avoid ruminating on it. Kian didn’t complain, happy to study his notes over and over in preparation for the event.
When he’d stayed late for the third day in a row, Eris—still his secretary—poked her head into his office as she was preparing to leave, watching him with an uncertain expression.
“Is everything alright, Headmaster?” she asked. “You seem stressed today.”
Adrissu sighed, lowering his pen to look up at her. Pain throbbed between his temples, and he lifted a hand to his forehead without meaning to.
“Just a headache,” he replied, shaking his head. “My apologies if I’ve seemed curt with you.”
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, not quite believing him; but after a beat she offered,
“I hope you feel better soon, then. If you took tomorrow off, I don’t think anyone would be too terribly inconvenienced, you know.” A smirk played at her lips, but he could barely manage a tight, brief smile in return.
“Maybe,” he said simply. “Thank you.”
Still unconvinced, she looked at him a moment longer, then turned to go.
“Have a good evening, Headmaster.”
“Good night, Eris.”
She closed his office door behind her, and he listened to her footsteps grow fainter and fainter as she walked away. When he could no longer hear her, he sighed and lowered his head into his hands. He could not remember the last occasion he had felt so distressed, and it must have been more obvious than he’d hoped if Eris was commenting on it. The last time he had ever been so helpless was in the week leading up to Polimnos’ rebellion against the Federation of Autreth, when Ruan had prepared to leave and fight, when Adrissu was certain he was going to die. And he had. Adrissu’s instincts proved more accurate than he liked, so his gut feeling that the ritual would not work made him fearful and restless.
Butwhywas this ritual so daunting to him? Nothing in it seemed especially dangerous now that they had done it so many times—the ritual itself on paperlookedlike it should work, and their experiments so far pointed toward its success. But even if it were to fail, it simply wouldn’t do anything, the magic failing to hold. Kian would be disappointed, yes, maybe even upset or angry or depressed, but he would not die. Considering how often Adrissu had pored over the ritual and its runes, he did not think its failure could cause Kian to die.
But Starck’s ritual, which it had been based upon, had caused the man such misery that he died only a short while later. Kian’s ritual was different, but maybe the same thing would happen. Maybe the failed ritual would cause him to suffer, even if he did not die.
And that was it, Adrissu thought miserably, as he stared down at his paperwork without seeing it. He did not want to watch Kian suffer. If the ritual was unsuccessful, it would not kill him, but it could hurt him. And Adrissu would have led him right to it, having done nothing to stop it. Could he live with that, if that was what it came to?
He would have to. He had promised Kian that he would help him. No matter how it turned out, he would be at Kian’s side.
The pen he’d been holding between his fingers snapped, splattering ink all down his hand, his papers, and the sleeve of his robe. Cursing, Adrissu tossed it all aside, and begrudgingly he packed up his things to go home. He would deal with all this tomorrow.
The morning of the ritual, Kian rose early, when the first rays of the sun were peeking through the window of their bedroom. Adrissu woke to the feeling of the human rolling out of bed, sighing as he leaned down to pat Vesper’s head. After a minute, the bed shifted again as Kian stood, and his bare footsteps padded down the hallway until Adrissu couldn’t hear him.
A moment later, he felt Vesper come up onto the bed, curling in the warm spot Kian had left behind. He sighed and rolled over to stroke her cold scales, meeting her beady-eyed gaze.
