Croe’s eyes remained open as he kissed her, even though the image before them blurred. She could not bear to close them, could not bear the thought that she might find herself asleep and when she opened them again, he would be gone. So she stared through the kiss, and stared at his smile, not quite trusting herself to smile back.
He was right, though. It all felt very, very real. And though logic screamed that this was impossible, it was far from the strangest thing that had ever happened to them, wasn’t it? If Croe thought back, this probably wouldn’t crack the top ten.
Hell, it wouldn’t top the list of strangeness that had happened in the first few weeks of their acquaintance.
She did smile, then – faintly, in spite of her doubts – but it froze on her lips, arrested by whatever he saw behind her. Turning her body obliquely to his, she followed his gaze up the cliff face, settling on the building. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Whatever was amiss, Mallos had obviously sensed it, too; he reached for her and she met him halfway, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Though danger may have lurked, ahead, they were strongest together.
As they made their way to the building, Croe was reminded of another misadventure, many years ago, involving cliffs and hidden architecture within. It might have warmed her, if the differences were not so stark – they’d flown, then, but now they climbed. He’d been arrogant, but now he was unsure. She watched him as he moved ahead of her, studying him more closely when his back was turned.
There was only one obvious explanation: his magic was gone. Again.
Croe had not missed the makeshift amulet he wore. There was no need to comment: she already knew where the real one was, and the fact that Mallos wore such a shoddy substitute spoke volumes to how much its absence ached. For the first time in her life, she longed to give her own magic up – to give it to him. Like the pebble on the string, her magic would be a poor imitation for his divinity; ill-fitting as a borrowed coat. But if it would keep him safe, if it would return his confidence…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the mess. Her fingers tightened against his.
The broken glass reminded her of something…an unwelcome memory of an old adversary, that had met an end even Croe would not have wished. She shook her head, as if to dislodge it. Those complicated feelings would keep; in this moment, a different side of her was needed. The professional. Her attention marched through the devastation around them, cataloguing the ballistic patterns, the trajectories of the broken furniture, the size of the shards of glass. The sheer force required to have done this was staggering. If it was an explosion, she had seen no sign of it on the cliff outside.
If it was magic…
A twinge of horror passed over her face at Mallos’ revelation, but he was turned from her, and she quickly schooled her expression back into something like control. “Do you know when that was?” Her voice was neutral, gentle even, reluctant to press – but her eyes were hunting the wreckage for some sign of disruption, some hint that a body had blocked the glass. Maybe more than one. “Were you alone?”
Think, my love. Try to remember.
She did not ask who was responsible. That, at least, seemed clear.
|
 |