I glare.
He stops.
“Fine,” he mutters. “A poorly calculated decision.”
“Better.”
His hand moves along my back, slower now, grounding instead of grasping. “You could have been hurt.”
“I was already hurt,” I say. “Watching you do that.”
Something shifts in his expression. Not pride. Not deflection.
Understanding.
Slow. Hard-earned. Real.
Downstairs, footsteps approach.
Corin reappears in the doorway a moment later, looking like he just wrestled the foundation of the house into submission and is not happy about it.
“Well,” he says, scanning the room. “We are still standing. That is encouraging.”
“Everything stable?” I ask.
“For now.” His gaze flicks to Rhazek, then back to me. “No structural collapse. No rogue magic trying to peel the walls apart. I would call that a victory.”
Rhazek exhales, tension finally draining from his shoulders. “The severance thread has restored.”
Corin nods once. “I can feel it. Whatever insanity you attempted out there has been… undone.”
“Corrected,” I say.
“Temporarily corrected,” Corin replies. “Let us not tempt fate by calling anything permanent tonight.”
I lean back slightly, still close enough to feel Rhazek’s steady warmth against me. The bond hums quietly now, no longer screaming, no longer tearing.
Just… there.
Alive. Balanced.
For now.
I look at Rhazek.
“You don’t get to make that choice without me,” I say again, quieter this time, but no less firm.
His hand closes over mine. “I understand.”
“Good.”
Corin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “If we are done nearly destroying ourselves for the evening, I would like to sit down and pretend I am not reconsidering all my life decisions.”
“You chose to be here,” I remind him.
“Yes,” he mutters. “A mistake I am now deeply committed to.”
Despite everything, a small, exhausted laugh escapes me.
