Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [97]
“How badly are you hurt?” I ask.
“I lost a claw.”
“Will it grow back?”
“No. But when we return to civilization, I can acquire a prosthetic.”
When, not if. I love him for saying that, even now. I love him, period. And I almost lost him. Shaking sets in. In a different way from March, different, yes, but not less. I love him.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” I say.
“I will do my best not to.”
With the gaping hole behind us, we must go forward. Since I’d already decided that was the best course, I’m okay with that. I’m just glad I was on Vel’s right when the pit opened up; that allowed me to scramble to the other side, which means we’re not trapped down here.
“Will Nu-Skin seal your wound?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll treat you now if you patch up my side again.”
“Gladly.”
That exchange of care uses up the last of our medical supplies, however. I never thought I’d see him out of necessary goods, but we’ve reached the bottom. If we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll die. That’s not histrionics or me being dramatic. It’s a fact.
“I’m thinking maybe we don’t want to touch anything else, if we can help it,” I say with a hint of a smile.
“Agreed. But I still have the sample,” Vel adds, as if that validates our near-death experience.
“You’ve no idea how relieved I am.” My dry tone elicits a staccato series of clicks from him that I recognize as laughter. And that ability in him—to laugh in the face of certain death—prompts me to speak words I couldn’t have imagined, turns before. “When we get out of here”—I, too, cling to when, not if—“I want you to wear my colors.”
I carry his colors on my throat, a beautiful vine-and-thorn pattern he designed himself. He did it on Ithiss-Tor to protect me from repercussions in diplomatic circles. There, I overheard whispers of speculation from his people, wondering whether he had taken me as his partner in every sense. So I have an inkling what my acceptance meant—and what my request will mean to him.
I go on, bravely, considering his unresponsive stance. “You said once that we’d discuss it further if we both survived the war.”
“I did. And we did.”
“We’re going to beat this, too,” I say firmly. “So will you?”
His weighty silence makes me wonder if I should’ve asked questions first. Maybe I’m leaping without looking again, and being stupid or offensive. Mary knows I don’t want to hurt Vel.
“Do you understand what it means?” he asks at last.
“It’s a statement of partnership and trust.” That much, I heard from the merchants on Ithiss-Tor. I know it can’t be a romantic thing because the Ithtorians don’t bond in that way. They act for dynastic value, so I’m honestly not sure what connotation it would have between Vel and me.
“It is also a promise that we will be together always. And . . . rare for an Ithtorian, to take colors for a single person instead of honors granted by his house.”
“I’m willing to pledge that. After all we’ve been through together, I can’t imagine my life otherwise.”
He considers for long moments, his face illuminated by the pale green glow. “Nor can I.”
This means he’s willing to watch me age and die. That will be unspeakably painful for him, but I won’t send him away as Adele did. I’m too selfish for that.
Vel seals the bargain by brushing the side of his face against mine, first time he’s done that. I touch the hinge of his mandible in the dark, wondering how I can feel so safe down here among the ancient dead.
The answer’s simple. He is with me.
I push to my feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s got to be food and water somewhere on this Mary-forsaken world.”
“And an end to our journey.”
I nod. We’ll find that damn gate soon.
[Handwritten message, left in care of the Mareq natives]
Jax,
I have no idea if you’ll ever get this message, but I couldn’t leave without any word at all. I don’t know if the Mareq female I left