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Those days are not past. Do you think a little thing like your moment of death would catch his attention?”
Dane stopped at the door, trying to breathe. “No.” No, he didn’t. He wasn’t that arrogant. Dane dying
in some stupid scuffle with Jonas was hardly a failure. Ezqel had been there to stop Lindsay from being
harmed. Dane had made it that far.
“Let me do this for you.”
Dane knew Ezqel wasn’t talking about the ring alone, but about what came after. “Why, when you
would not, before?” He turned slowly.
“That’s my affair.” Ezqel held out the ring again. His heavy hair was out of place, his robes slipped
off one shoulder farther than the other, his jaw was tight. “Take it.” Every little crack in his facade felt like a war trophy.
“It’s my life.” Dane came back to snatch the ring from Ezqel’s hand. “My life is not your affair. Not anymore.” He held the ring up. “Not because you asked. Not for Cyrus. For my own reasons.” He shoved
the ring in his pocket. “I am still allowed one or two of those, no matter what I am, no matter what you
think of me.”
“Dane…”
Dane turned his back on the mage. No worse could be done to him than had been done already, not
without damaging Ezqel’s own machinations. Dane wasn’t fool enough to think anything else mattered, not
after all these years. “I’ll see you when I’ve finished what needs doing.”
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Leaving Ezqel’s house was far easier for Lindsay than coming to it had been. Taniel led them out
through the gardens in the back and under an archway overgrown with ivy, through a gate. “This path will
take you to the nearest town. You must stay on it, though. If you step away from it, you may not find your
way again, and I ca
Dane snorted and hitched up his pack. “I do. We won’t stray. I’m not in the habit of chasing white
stags.”
Taniel stifled a laugh. “No, that’s wise. Good luck.” He turned to Lindsay and gave him a warm
smile. “And good luck to you, also. We will see you again.”
Lindsay nodded back at Taniel, giving him an uncertain smile before following Dane away, along the
path. “What’s…” Lindsay tromped along beside Dane for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “What does
Ezqel do?” He’d been too terrified to even think about what it was that Ezqel was good at. He’d been too busy being trampled by his own memories.
“You mean the basic magic he was born with? A strange kind of sight, like what they call ‘second
sight’. He doesn’t see things like other people—matter, time, magic. His sight makes him a master of the
art of magic. Spells and artifacts and the like.” Lindsay didn’t know. He hadn’t grown up with magic
around him, ubiquitous the way it seemed to be now. “It’s hard to find him because so many people would
simply kill him if they could—he’s that dangerous.”
Lindsay tried to turn the information over in his mind, tried to process. “Did he save you? Is that how
you survived?”
“Partly. The body can live on magic for a little while if it must, and it needs magic to live. That’s one
reason we have long lives. They gave me enough magic to force what was left of me to keep working. My
body and Izia’s healing took over.” Dane rubbed at the back of his neck and his shoulders drew up
defensively.
Lindsay glanced away. Dane was so rarely discomfited about things that watching it made Lindsay
feel like he was trespassing. Dane grumbled deep in his chest and Lindsay felt a bit better, because that was the Dane he knew. He kept hoping he’d work out how to take care of Dane the way Dane took care of him.
It felt like their relationship had changed since they’d first set foot in the Black Forest. Dane’s death had changed everything for Lindsay, but it wasn’t that alone.
The kisses. Dane had kissed Lindsay, had kissed him like he meant it. Lindsay could hardly stop
thinking about it, no matter how he tried to put it aside. Some part of him that he hadn’t known existed was still flying high, replaying each kiss whenever his mind wandered.
Maybe they were only kisses, like treats for when Lindsay was good or brave. But it seemed like it
should mean something that Dane had kissed Lindsay, was attracted to him, but hadn’t simply sated
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himself and fallen asleep like he had with Kristan, even if Lindsay would have given Dane anything.
Maybe that meant something good.
Dane let him have so much, let him take so many liberties. Lindsay didn’t understand how his own
magic worked, much less anyone else’s. He was certain that it would have been rude to ask someone else,
but the way it was between them, it felt like he could ask. “Your magic? What…what is that, exactly? I
mean, I know about your claws, but…how does that help you heal?”
“Awful curious about magic for someone who just spent all this time saying he didn’t want his,” Dane
teased. He reached out and petted Lindsay’s hair, though.
Lindsay leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping half-shut with the pleasure of it. Maybe Dane was
only indulging him, but it still felt good. “I don’t…I don’t know. I want to understand.”
“Was a time I would have made short work of Jonas,” Dane said quietly. “I used to be a shapeshifter,
of a kind. Now, I have a little of it left. Not much.”
“What happened?” Lindsay asked, before he could think better of it.
“I hurt someone.” Dane’s voice was neutral. “They hurt me back.”
“Oh.” Lindsay was silent for a long time, as they trudged along the path. The walk was far easier,
leaving.
How Dane had lost his magic nagged at Lindsay along the way, though. Lindsay tried not to
remember the pain and torment that he’d suffered when he’d lost his magic, and before that. Maybe Dane
had suffered like that, too. The idea made Lindsay ache inside. It made sense, the way Dane seemed used to
pain, how he’d never made anything but that small sound when Jonas had gutted him.
“And Jonas? Was he a shapeshifter too? He’s the one Cyrus was talking about when he said the dog
would be looking for us. I figured that out. Is that why he kept coming, why he didn’t die?”
“He always looks the same. He heals. And he hunts. He’s nearly impossible to kill.” Dane shook his
head and glanced over at Lindsay, his expression dark. “Nearly. We call him the dog because that’s what he
is. He hangs around on the outskirts of being human, but he’ll never be one. He eats what scraps they throw him. Takes their work.”
Lindsay was quiet, remembering. “I think I almost killed him. I think…if I wasn’t broken, if Ezqel
hadn’t come…”
“Next time.” Dane slung his arm around Lindsay’s shoulders. “He’ll never see it coming.”
Lindsay leaned into it, basking in being included, somehow, in Dane’s future, and in the way Dane
had faith in him. “Will Ezqel really be able to fix me?”
“If he says he can, he will.” Dane turned to Lindsay. “Do you want to be fixed, now?”
Lindsay met Dane’s eyes. “I don’t want to be standing there, wishing I could push a little more,
wishing I could do something. I want to be able to do it. I don’t want to be broken.”
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He understood it, now, what they’d been saying before. That his magic could be the difference
between life and death. That he would need it. That being broken wouldn’t save him, it would make him an