Tovan looks down at Corin, and for a moment the old man’s severity cracks. “Corin needs quiet. Warmth. Bloodroot infusion for the pain, if you can find it unadulterated. No strain, no stairs if you can help it. Keep him calm.”
“Keep him calm?” I laugh once, and the sound disgusts even me. “That is what you have for me?”
“That is what I can give you without lying.”
“Then lie better.”
He gathers his things slowly. “Some doors are not worth opening, Sable.”
I understand what he means before he finishes saying it. The thought comes cold and black, sliding beneath my skin like a knife slipped under a cuff.
Infernal doors.
I say nothing.
Tovan sees anyway. “Do not go looking below the city.”
Corin’s hand tightens suddenly, stronger than I expect. “Sable.”
I look down at him.
His eyes are clearer now, and that is somehow worse. He has heard enough. He knows me too well.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
I brush damp hair off his forehead. “Hush.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Tovan leaves me powders, instructions, and a look that begs me to become someone more reasonable before nightfall. Unfortunately for everyone involved, reason has never kept anyone I love alive.
By evening, Corin cannot climb the stairs.
The house settles into darkness around us, with the stove reduced to embers and the upper floor holding the day’s leftover warmth like breath trapped in wool. I have lit only one lamp to save oil, and its light trembles over the stairwell, making the walls look narrower than they are. Corin grips the banister with both hands, one foot planted on the third step, the other dragging behind as though his leg no longer believes in him.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You are on the stairs.”
“Many fine people use stairs.”
“You are sweating through your shirt.”
“Fashion.”
“Corin.”
He takes one more step. His face grays.
I am below him when his strength gives out. He slumps sideways against the wall, and I lunge up, catching him around the waist. His breath punches out against my shoulder.
“All right,” he whispers. “Perhaps the stairs have made a compelling argument.”
“You mule-headed bastard.”
“Love you too.”
