“You’re okay,” I said, and it was a statement rather than a question.
“I am,” he agreed. “How long it will last, I have no idea, but for now, we’re good.”
We, not I. That was a new and hopeful sign. “What happened?”
“I did what you suggested I do. I went back to the sacred site and talked to the elemental.” His brief smile was almost a grimace. “It wasn’t easy, but we got there in the end. You were right, Azriel. It doesn’t want to die. It just wants to protect the fire that gave it life.”
“So you have reached a compromise?” Azriel asked.
“We have. One I think we could both live with.”
“And that is?” I prompted, when he didn’t immediately go on.
“I have the days. It has the nights.”
“What?” I said, surprised. “I would have thought it would be the other way around, given it draws energy from heat and sunlight.”
“There may be neither at night, but there is the sacred fire. Not only is it the source of the elemental’s power, but it is also most vulnerable at night. Therefore, we’ll be there at night to protect it, and I’ll have the days.”
“So why are you here now? It’s nine thirty and nighttime.”
“I came back here to grab a shower and to leave you a note. I wanted to let you know I was okay—that we were okay. Then I was heading back out.”
“To do what?” I said. “I mean, there’s nothing up there but wilderness and the fire.”
“The elemental doesn’t need anything else,” he said, expression gentle.
“So when you’re up there, the elemental is in control?”
“Yes, but I am not unaware, just as it is not unaware during the day.” He lifted a hand. His skin briefly glowed with a deep orange fire. “I can still have a life, Ris, even if it is one that wasn’t what I’d quite imagined.”
Half a life was better than no life. Or worse, losing yourself forever in the fires of another creature. I walked over and gave him a hug. “Be careful up there, won’t you?”
He returned the hug fiercely, then brushed a kiss across the top of my head. “I will. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hopefully, yes.”
He frowned and stepped back. “And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean?”
I waved a hand. “Nothing. This whole key quest thing is just getting me down.”
“If I can help in any way—”
“I know.” I squeezed his arm. His peace with the elemental was too new, too fragile, to even think about bringing him back into the quest, even if I had wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
“I have my phone with me, so if I don’t answer it immediately, leave a message,” he said. “You know I’ll be there if I can.”
“I know. And thank you.” I kissed his cheek. “Go, before the elemental starts getting antsy.”
He turned and went. I listened to the sound of his retreating steps, and though part of me rejoiced that he’d found a solution that enabled him to live, part of me also felt like crying. Because nothing was ever going to be the same. The tight-knit group we’d grown up with had fractured, ever so slightly, and it couldn’t ever go back to what it was. The events of the last few weeks had changed us all, and not entirely for the better.
“I do hope I’m not included in the ‘not entirely better’ portion of that thought,” Azriel said, amusement in his voice.
“You, reaper,” I said, as I turned and headed for the sofa, “generally have a foot in both fields, depending on where my hormones are at the time.”
“Then it is your hormones that are the problem, not me.”