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I tugged at my new black necklace. “No.”
“Way to go, Truck!” Chloe called, her voice warping from the barrier, as she trotted toward the pinned monster.
Ker slightly hunched her shoulders—if she’d been in her wolf form she’d be whining with pinned ears. “Are you sure you shouldn’t say anything? I mean, I told her a slightly optimistic version of heirloom weapons because I didn’t want her to fear your power. But I didn’t know…this would happen.”
Destruction made happy gurgling noises as Chloe pulled it free, then finished off the last mantasp with another burst of raw power.
“I’m never going to say anything,” I concluded. “Not because I don’t want to disappoint Chloe, but because I have never seen Destruction so happy. And if shestopstreating it in this way, I’m afraid it may choose to…express its anger. At us.”
“Oh.” Aristide almost dropped his drink. “Yeah. That might be an accurate worry. Unless, do you have any wisdom to share with the classroom, Charon?”
Charon delicately turned to a new page in his notebook. “In all of my searching, I have never found any record of Destruction doing such…thingsbefore, and it is undeniably pleased with Chloe as its new wielder.”
“In Truck’s defense,” Ker said, already starting to fall into Chloe’s habit of calling the most dangerous weapon in elfdom after a human made vehicle, “he hasn’t been used in centuries—not since Noctus fought his family. He was probably getting lonely, especially since he’s used to being the weapon of choice for the Mors family. Maybe he’s just excited that he’s getting used again?”
“Thanks for your help, Truck,” Chloe said, her voice growing louder as she approached the barrier. “I appreciate it.”
“Woo-woo,” groaned the ancient, deadly heirloom.
“Yeah,” Aristide said. “Excited.”
Chloe popped through the barrier with a sneeze, followed up by a cough that rattled her lungs. “The mantasps are all gone—I used one of the new methods you taught me, Charon.”
“Well done, Your Majesty.” Charon—with the growing ease of experience—caught the trash griffin before it could smack into Chloe, holding the creature like a baby.
“Thanks—hello, French Fry.” Chloe tickled the trash griffin’s belly, then coughed again.
“The poisonous air affects you more than I thought.” I frowned as I reached out, pressing my fingers to Chloe’s neck to feel for her pulse. “It seems it will be worth improving my ability to use healing magic on you for future fights.”
“Can you really use it on me in battle?” Chloe rested the butt of Destruction’s pole on the ground, breaking millennium old practices that used to be observed for the weapon. “It makes me kind of loopy. I don’t think that would be very helpful when I need to be careful.”
“We’ll experiment,” I assured her.
Destruction groaned, and Ker shivered in response.
“Well then.” Aristide saluted in my general direction with his ice filled cup. “The monsters are defeated, and the barrier is safe, shall we get the blissful couple back to the celebration?”
“Sounds good to me.” Ker took Aristide’s cup so he could focus on his cane. “I could go for another piece of cake or five. Charon, you driving?”
“Always,” Charon firmly said. He walked quickly so he was the first to get back to the all-terrain vehicle he’d driven up the mountain, still carrying the trash griffin—who cooed at us from over his shoulder.
I watched for a moment, before turning to my new bride. “Before we head out, might I use my healing magic on you?” I held out my hand to Chloe—needing the contact to heal her.
Chloe set her hand on mine. “Yes, thank you.”
I tapped my powers, getting them to kickstart before I used the collar to push a pulse of my magic into her, concentrating on her lungs.
Chloe fidgeted, waggling Destruction. “Hey, Noctus?”
“Yes?” I’d been staring at her chest—making sure my magic got to her lungs—but at the sound of her voice I looked at her face.
Chloe chewed her bottom lip. “Could I try something, quick? With magic?”
“Of course,” I said. “You need not ask, Amalourne.”
She stood a little taller. “Okay, thanks.” She held Destruction away from me—even if Chloe could use it with abandon, it was still cursed—then stretched up so she was standing on the tips of her toes. She tugged her hand from mine just long enough to throw it around my neck.
I bent forward to make it easier on her and rested my hands on her hips, closing my eyes and enjoying the peace and warmth she radiated to me through the collar.
