Was there something he wasn’t sharing? Had so much happened that he’d lost faith?
Sandis took his hand and squeezed his fingers; they were cool to the touch. “That’s good news, Rone.” She paused. “Are you all right? Did something happen?” Her heart fell. “It’s not a terrible job, is it?”
“They’re all terrible jobs.” He pushed past her into the room, where the bedrolls still lay in the corner. An evasion, or simple weariness?
He wore a new jacket. Sandis decided not to ask where he’d gotten it.
Arnae folded his arms. “You seem dejected, boy.”
Rone shook his head. “I’m just tired. I was all over the city today.” He collapsed into a sitting position on his bedroll and cradled his head in his hands.
“We saved you some dinner.” Sandis glanced at Arnae to make sure it was all right for them to enter his side of the flat. He nodded, and she hurried to the stove to retrieve the chicken and potatoes there. She set the plate before Rone on his bedroll.
He sighed, avoiding her gaze. “Thank you.”
She hadn’t done something wrong, had she? Her mind whisked back through the day. No . . . he’d been fine when he left this morning.
He’s just tired, she told herself. Like he said.
It had been an easy day for her, but a wearying one for him. She’d repay him for all his efforts after they found Talbur. After she built herself a new foundation and discovered a way to thwart Kazen once and for all.
Let it work out. Please, she silently prayed. I know I’m not worthy, but I’ll never bother you again if you just let this work out.
“Tomorrow, Rone,” Arnae said.
Rone nodded. “We’ll be gone.” He took a bite, chewed, swallowed. Hesitated. “There’s actually a decent place we can hide out. Found it today, but it won’t be vacant until tomorrow night. It’s a little ways from here.”
“I don’t mind,” Sandis tried, wishing he would smile. Or tease her. Or curse. He seemed so beside himself. But of course he was exhausted. He’d swum the canal for her, probably carried her all the way here himself. Jumped all over Dresberg to find work to sustain her. Sandis hadn’t done anything but clean and learn a few self-defense moves.
Her bones grew heavy. “Thank you for everything you do, Rone,” she said softly. “I don’t know where I’d be without you. Thank you so much.”
Rone winced and touched his cheek—he must have bitten it. “It’s no problem, Sandis. I’d have to do it anyway.”
Arnae hummed deep in his throat. “Well, it’s late. I’m retiring. Try not to ruin me before your departure, hm?”
Sandis turned around. “Thank you.”
He smiled at her and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Sandis rubbed sleep from her eyes—it was late—but climbed onto her bedroll and asked, “Where did you go?”
“Lots of places. Back and forth.”
“Do you want some water?”
Rone was chewing, so he couldn’t answer. Sandis filled a cup from the pitcher Arnae had left in the corner and handed it to him. Briefly recounted her day.
Rone finished his plate and set it aside, then lay down, crossing his arms over his face to block out the light.
“I can turn off the lamp—”
“It’s fine, Sandis.”
She frowned. Watched him breathe. Let her eyes trace the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips. “Do you want a bath . . . ?”
“Not right now.”
Her chest tightened. This wasn’t simply fatigue. Couldn’t be. “I’m sorry, Rone.”
He lifted one arm and looked at her with one eye. “For what?”
She hugged her knees to her chest. “For being such a burden. For causing all of this.”
But he shook his head and dropped his arm. “You’re not a burden, Sandis.”
She licked her lips. “But you’re so . . . stressed.”
Rone dropped both his arms and propped himself on his elbow. “Not because of you. You’re fine. You’re wonderful, all right? I’m not angry with you. Just . . .” He shook his head. “I’m spent today.”
She smiled. Wonderful. Nodded.
She snuffed the kerosene lantern, then felt her way back to bed. Lay down and watched the ceiling until her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could make out the rafters. There were no windows in the room, only a sliver of light coming from beneath the door that led to Arnae’s flat.
Rolling onto her side, she watched Rone, though she could barely differentiate him from the floorboards. His heat radiated through his clothes. He smelled like rivers and smoke and cigars, oddly enough. She liked the smells. They were familiar. Masculine.
He sat up and pulled off his jacket, tossing it somewhere in the darkness. Lay back down. Sighed.
Sandis reached forward and pinched the fabric of his shirt between her fingers. “It will work out, Rone. We’ll find Talbur, and everything will work out. We’ll help your mother, too. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.”
He grimaced. Why? “You don’t owe me anything, Sandis.”
“You’ve saved my life. Multiple times—”
“You’ve done the same. We’re even.”
She let go of his shirt. Let her hand fall on the bedroll beside him. After a moment, he reached over and took it in his. A thrill passed through her fingers and up her arm until it danced in her jaw.
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
Rone dropped her hand. “Just . . .”
He didn’t finish the thought.
Tugging on a smidgeon of bravery, Sandis scooted herself over until Rone’s heat blanketed her. Carefully, almost so he wouldn’t feel it, she rested her head on his chest.
His arm circled around her, pulling her close.
Closing her eyes, Sandis smiled into the darkness and let herself sink into him. Listened to his too-quick heartbeat. Set her hand against his stomach.
This. If this peaceful, happy moment could only last forever . . . She felt sure, as Rone’s pulse slowly calmed and his breathing evened, that this was what heaven had to be like. Warm and safe. A place where she belonged, with people she loved. This was bliss. This was family.
It was all falling into place. Soon she’d find Talbur, and the three of them would free Rone’s mother and find some way to thwart Kazen, and she’d have Rone and family and belonging, and her time with Kazen would become but a memory on the wind, easily forgotten. She was so close she could feel it thrumming beneath her skin, even as she fell asleep.
The amarinth spun.
At first it made its usual whirring noise, but it got louder and louder, until it sounded like a whistle. An alarm. A scream.
Sandis stood in front of it, out of body, watching the golden ribbons spin faster and faster until she couldn’t see them at all. Instead, the center of the artifact transfixed her. It glowed white, so brilliant it hurt Sandis’s eyes to look at it, but she couldn’t pull herself away. Louder, faster, brighter.
She felt him there, fiery and desperate. This wasn’t her dream; it was his. Ireth’s.
What is it? She tried to shout, but she had no voice, no body. What are you trying to show me?
She remembered the sensations she’d felt at Helderschmidt’s, staring at the amarinth. But what does this have to do with anything?
The amarinth’s center flashed like the sun, leaving in its wake darkness lit by a single glowing eye.
Ireth’s fear threatened to smother her.
She needed to know.
She thought about the dream and the amarinth as she stared at the floorboards, waiting for Rone to come out of his bath in Arnae’s side of the flat. She didn’t understand the visions. What was Ireth trying to say? The sole connection she could fathom was that the amarinth was of Noscon make and the numina were Noscon magic—at least, the astral sphere that mapped the numina was Noscon. That sphere helped summoners navigate the ethereal plane, though she didn’t understand how. Could it also help her learn more about Ireth?
Was there something else?