Page 224 of Carousel

He leans over the wooden railing protecting the platform. Traps me with another sentence that he throws down at me like a noose.

“You want things you can’t have, Ara – and that is understandable. But I promise you it’s all right to want things you can.”

I leave, ignoring him on the platform, and half wishing he might fall right off it.

I’ve never been in the infirmary, but I know it’s somewhere on Deck 8, the deck I’d liked least with its hardened gunners manning cannons and the unpleasant woman, Kira, in the armoury. Now the deck is empty, I don’t feel the same unease I felt. The only people here are a few soldiers, who by their looks must be Rhavnan, stationed at a couple of the centremost cannons. Many of the lights are off. The armoury, on the left-hand side of the deck, is shut.

I walk to the right, following a hallway. I can see light at the end of it.

I hear Cosmer’s loud voice before I see him, and it’s like my world became animated again.

“No. No. I am not a fish. I don’t need hydrating.”

I enter the light, and it’s like it enters me.

Because there he is, in his crumpled shirt and breeches, looking dank-haired and tired and bloodshot-eyed and unkempt and not perfect in any way. But he is.

He is.

He turns away from the rubber balloon hanging up on a brass rack on wheels he was being presented with by the middle-aged, kind-looking woman I’d seen earlier on The Bridge.

Not caring that she’s right there too, I hurtle to him, fast and panting, like I’m escaping from something. My arms throw themselves around him so hard he stumbles back.

“I couldn’t hold on any longer,” I breathe into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Slowly, I feel it. His arms – which hadn’t actually been that tight around me to begin with – are now completely slack.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, looking up at him.

“You made me take your mask,” he says, his voice croaky like mine from our exposure to thin air. But there’s something else under that.

“I had to,” I reply. What does he want me to say?

He stares at me, and it’s the strangest expression, like relief and love and heartbreak all in one. “I told you not to use your magic on me.”

“I used it to save you⁠—”

He drags a hand down his face. “Yes. And if you’d died because of me, I’d never have been able to live with myself⁠—”

“And if you’d died in front of me, and I didn’t do anything to help you, I’d never have been able to live with myself.” I look at him differently. “If you don’t want me to risk my life for you, don’t put yourself in situations where I need to.”

He’s shaking his head, roughly. “That’s not fair. I was just trying to get back to you.”

I can’t do this. Can’t argue with him. When all I want is to hold him.

“Cosmer. Can we just forget about this? You’re alive – we’re alive. And I have so much to tell you,” I say, letting myself be happy again. Hopeful. “Things have changed. I’m not going to marry the person I was promised to. I found another way.”

Something flashes up on his face. His mouth tweaks. “Really.”

“Yes!” I’m beaming at him. Because this might be the happiest I’ll ever be, and I want him to know that. “I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” he repeats, like he can’t believe it. But then a smile plays on his lips.

“Yours,” I say again, pushing my face right up to his. I could breathe in his freckles like dust.

The medic – I’d completely forgotten she was even there – murmurs, “I will leave you both alone.”

“No,” Cosmer states, without looking at her. “You stay. We will leave.”