Worried, she thought at him, and he nodded.
“I know,” he whispered. “Me too.”
He laid listlessly in bed for a little longer, until the sound of Kian preparing food downstairs roused him enough to get up and dress himself. Spring was nearing its end, so the mornings had become warmer in the past few weeks; he pulled a light linen robe on before walking to the top of the stairs to look down and listen. He could not quite see into the kitchen from where he stood, but he could hear Kian stirring something over a low fire.
Any semblance of an appetite was gone for the anxiety gnawing at his stomach, but Adrissu rallied his nerves and walked downstairs all the same. Kian turned at the sound of his steps coming down the stairs—Vesper’s body thudding along behind him—and smiled brightly over at him as they came into view. But Adrissu recognized the telltale way his smile wavered, and his eyes tightened; he was nervous, too. Maybe not as nervous as Adrissu, but it was certainly a daunting task all the same.
“Morning,” Kian said. “I made some porridge. Want a bowl?”
“No thank you,” Adrissu sighed, sitting down at their table to watch him finish. Would this be their last morning together? His final breakfast with his mate as Kian? He chased the dark thoughts away, but worry lingered in his gut.
“Didn’t sleep well?” Kian asked, softer this time. He hadn’t: anxiety kept him awake, but that, at least, he could keep to himself.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied, rubbing between his eyes. “I’ve had a headache on and off the past few days.”
“Drink some water,” Kian prompted, pouring him a glass. Dutifully, Adrissu took a sip. “You’re still feeling well enough to help me with—well, with everything, right?”
If he said no, how long would Kian postpone it? A day? A week? How much more time could he possibly buy?
“Of course,” Adrissu answered, giving him a strained smile. “I’m probably just dehydrated. It’s getting warmer, after all.”
Kian pursed his lips, shooting Adrissu a suspicious look. Considering how infrequently he needed to eat or drink, Adrissu was sure Kian knew it was a lie. But he said nothing, then turned back to his own breakfast.
The rest of the morning was equally unsettled, Adrissu mostly observing silently as Kian prepared. He measured out the clay and salt that he would need, then set fresh charcoal in a small linen bag before going over his notes a final time. When everything was ready just before noon, Adrissu carried them down into his lair, where they could work undisturbed.
“I’ll start drawing it out,” Kian said, as Adrissu set him on his feet. “Here.” He fished through his bag of components, pulling out a large hunk of rock salt and handing it to Adrissu. The chunk was so large that Kian had to use both hands to lift it out of the bag, but Adrissu could hold it without issue between his first two claws.
Silently, Adrissu watched as Kian mapped out the broad circle with his charcoal, then he set the piece of salt where Kian indicated. He remained silent as the human surrounded it with a rune, then moved on to the next, and the next, until the entire first outer circle was marked with a range of transmutation runes—the same they had used so many times before in all their experiments, only larger.
“Give me the clay,” Adrissu rumbled, finally rising from his position now that the exterior runes were set. Kian nodded, handing over the bag that held several pounds of the thick red material. In the very center of the circle, Adrissu spread the clay out until it was a roughly Kian-sized oval, marking the place where he would lie. Kian had continued to mark the inner circles with more runes, connecting them to the center once Adrissu had spread it all out evenly; but he looked up and smirked in amusement as Adrissu stepped away to irritably shake his claws free of the last clinging bits of clay.
“Want to look over my work, Headmaster?” Kian asked, his tone only half-teasing. Adrissu nodded, peering over the large circle. It was bigger than any circle that they had ever created together, but Kian was bigger than any of the animals that they had experimented on as well. It had to be sized just right, but it looked like it was the correct scale to Adrissu. He had the ritual and its runes memorized, and he could see it quite clearly in his mind’s eye; still he held up the paper with Kian’s model for his own peace of mind, comparing it with the circle Kian had just marked down on the floor.
It was immaculate, not a single rune out of place. The work of a true master of transmutation, Adrissu thought, pride breaking through the constant backdrop of his anxiety to well up in his chest.
“Perfect,” he said softly, his deep voice resonating through the cavern. “You should be very proud of what you’ve accomplished, Kian.”
Kian laughed nervously, glancing away. “Well, let’s make sure it works before submitting it for any awards, you know.”
Adrissu nodded, that tiny spark of hope already disappearing beneath his worry once again. He hated how flippantly Kian could say that.It had to work. He had to believe it would work, or he would destroy the circle that instant.
“Ready?” Kian continued, turning back to face his work.
“Yes,” Adrissu replied, taking his place once again where the chunk of rock salt was positioned at the bottom of the array. Kian stepped into the center of the circle, careful not to smudge any of the runes as he moved, and laid down on the bed of clay. In the quiet of his lair, Adrissu could just barely hear the thud of the human’s heart in his chest—a rapid, nervous beat.
The human took in a deep, steadying breath, then placed his own chunk of rock salt on his sternum and held it there with clay-covered hands.
“Ready?” he asked again, and this time Adrissu hesitated for a moment before answering. It had to work. Ithadto work.
“Yes,” he said, as he sent his magic flowing through his claws where they grasped the rock salt. It immediately flared with light that spread across the circle, creeping outward from its starting point like water filling a reservoir—in a way, it was a reservoir, made of magic that Kian would draw from and shape into the spell with his vision. When every rune was lit, glowing a pale blue, Kian took in one more shuddering breath, then recited the incantation.
Immediately the glowing runes shifted in color, morphing from a cool blue to a warm orange-red, like fire flickering over the charcoal marks. The incantation took about a minute to recite: the sound was familiar now, with how many times they had performed the ritual before. The cadence and intonation were exactly the same as they had always been, and again a tiny spark of hope lit in the center of Adrissu’s chest. If this was like every other time they had done the ritual, it should work. Itwouldwork.
Partway through, the clay that Kian laid upon glowed with a soft, warm light as well. When it was all aglow, tendrils of it drifted upward, like mercury in a vial.
The glowing clay touched Kian’s skin, and the human hissed in surprise. He was silent just a beat longer than he should have been—there was no visible difference in the rune and its glow—then Kian started up again right where he’d left off, but still alarm bells began ringing in Adrissu’s head.
Kian continued resolutely, even as the slow-moving clay encapsulated his body, and his voice became muffled as it formed a thin shell around him. When Kian spoke the final word of the incantation, Adrissu pulled his claws away from the conduit. The array glowed for a moment longer; the low thrum of it was just audible in the silence that filled the cavern in the absence of Kian’s voice. Then it flared brightly, bright enough that it burned to look at, but Adrissu could not allow himself to close his eyes or turn aside, not this time. He had to be certain. If he looked away from Kian for even an instant, that might be all it took for it to go wrong.
