She held still, but her jaw was tight, her gaze fixed on my face like she was bracing for something.
When I was satisfied, Ireleased her wrist.
Instead of stepping back, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. The gentle contact had more of an impact than any of the blows I’d taken.
I froze for half a second, surprised by the pressure of her against my chest, and how it seemed like she belonged right there. Then my arms came up around her without permission from my mind. I pulled her in, closer than necessary, one hand pressing between her shoulders as if letting go was not an option.
She fit there too well.
Her fingers curled into the back of my shirt, and I felt the slight tremor she had hidden from me.
“You scared me,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes and held her tighter. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m here.”
For a moment, nothing existed but the quiet field, her arms around me, and the certainty that I had come far closer to losing her than I was willing to accept.
After a while. I eased my grip, but I didn’t let go of her completely. I kept my hand on her back, needing the contact to convince myself we were both still standing.
I drew back just enough to look at her. “Did you quote Homer into my head?”
She froze, then her mouth tipped into something sheepish and very human. “Yes,” she said. “Sorry. I do that when I’m stressed.”
“You quote epic poetry,” I said carefully, “during combat?”
“My brain latches onto language when everything else is trying to panic. Old stuff works best. It’s already survived worse than me.”
I nodded. That made a strange sort of sense.
“Next time,” I said, “you may do so again.”
Her expression softened, relief showing through the exhaustion. “Good. Because it’s either Homer or swearing, and I was trying to be polite.”
A faint huff of amusement left me as I pressed the mark on my wrist.
Caliban appeared at my side without sound, coat unruffled, expression already assessing. “You’re injured,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You will rest.”
“Yes.”
His eyes shifted to Artemis for a moment, then back to me. “You have chosen a hazardous research method.”
“Unavoidable.”
His eyebrow rose, then he vanished.
Moments later he returned, a bag already slung over his shoulder. He set it at my feet and began removing items.
“Use these tonight,” he said. “Topical first. Then the tonic. No flying until morning.” He extended a small card toward Artemis. “Accommodation nearby.”
She took it, then looked back at me. “You’re really okay?”
“I will be once I’ve rested,” I said.
Caliban scoffed. “You’ll remain here tonight and heal. Tomorrow, you may resume your poor decision-making.”
