Page 76 of Zenith Court

“Yes.”

He looked toward the signet on the sill and back. “Then hear me without it. I choose you. Whatever the line does next, I still choose you.”

His voice remained even. The pulse beneath my hand did not.

“Good,” I said.

Caspian went still.

I laid my free hand against his jaw. Caspian closed his eyes and turned his face into my palm.

Nothing moved beneath our skin. Caspian did not open his eyes or tighten his hand.

Cold struck through our joined hands. Marble and burnt sugar rose beneath my skin so quickly that my knees weakened. A silver line appeared at Caspian’s wrist, crossed into mine, and settled beside my pulse.

Caspian caught my elbow before I stumbled.

The restored line carried no flood of his thoughts. It gave me only his presence: alive, close, choosing to remain. When I reached toward it carefully, I found grief held close and relief nearer the surface. I took no more.

He opened his eyes and looked at the new silver line at his wrist. “There it is.”

“Yes.”

His thumb moved once across my knuckles. “I didn’t think I would hear that word twice.”

“I wasn’t trying to replace the first.”

“You didn’t.” He covered my hand against his face for one breath longer. “You gave me another.”

We stayed by the window until my balance steadied. Then Caspian guided me back to the mattress and put the cup into my hand. While I drank, he tried to rewrap his left palm one-handed. When the knot slipped, Jonah rose and tied it for him without comment.

By the time the room stopped tilting, Kieran had moved to the windowsill. His burned wrist rested open on his thigh, and he rolled the old shoulder carefully beneath his shirt.

I sat beside him. Our knees touched. “May I?”

He looked at my hand, then guided it to the shoulder I had healed.

No green-gold line answered. The joint moved beneath my palm when he drew a breath.

“You chose me on the Tower roof,” I said. “You thought you were dying.”

“I was extremely persuasive under pressure.”

“Kieran.”

The humor left his face, but not all at once. “I know.”

I waited.

He looked out at the rain. “I knew how the old ending worked. Every morning got me closer to it. Then you changed my shoulder, and suddenly there were days after the day I’d planned for.”

“Do you want them?”

His gaze returned to mine. “With you? Yes.”

“What do they look like?”

“Today? Bread, if Caspian hasn’t decided it belongs to the window. A dry shirt. You asleep for six consecutive hours.”