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The rest of the day seemed to creep. But then supper had been eaten, and it was time for Náli to prepare for the spell, and the evening flitted past after that.

His pulse fluttered quick and unsteady in his throat and wrists and ears, and his breaths came in sharp, airless little gasps as he sorted through his supplies and packed them into a satchel.

He'd never been so nervous in his life, and the way Mattias stood silently supportive across the bed from him said he knew it. Náli kept waiting for the inevitable out: you don’t have to do this; we’ve lasted this long the way things are; perhaps you should truly consider marriage. But when Náli fastened the satchel, and ducked through its strap, and lifted his head, finally, Mattias offered a smile.

“Ready?”

He took a huge breath and let it out in a rush. “As I’ll ever be.”

He moved around the bed toward the door – and Mattias caught him around the waist and hauled him in close. Pressed them together, his body a solid, reassuring heat, as was the firm kiss he pressed to Náli’s mouth. Not the heated, passionate sort of kiss from last night or this morning in the barn, but one that said I’m with you. I have you.

Náli allowed himself the indulgent comfort of wrapping his arms around his neck and clinging to him; he broke the kiss in favor of pressing his face into Mattias’s neck and breathing deep the scent of leather, and soap, and the peppermint oil he used on his beard and hair. “I’m afraid,” he admitted, a whisper tucked into the collar of his tunic. “Isn’t that awful? This whole thing’s been my idea from the first, and now I’m frightened.”

Mattias stroked up and down his spine. “I’d be worried if you weren’t at least a little afraid.” He patted his hip. “Come on, then.”

“Right.” Náli withdrew with reluctance, but had smoothed his face and lifted his chin high by the time he stepped out into the hall where the rest of his Guard awaited.

Past midnight, the Keep lay still and silent, cold and echoing, darkness pooled in every corner, as forlorn as a mausoleum. Fitting, Náli thought, but it left him grateful for the Northern tradition of cremation; he’d never liked the idea of his bones sealed up in a frigid granite vault for all eternity. Klemens led the way, carrying a lantern, its glow peeking oddly around corners ahead of them, so that the shadows seemed alive, shrinking away from their party. Their footfalls echoed off the high ceilings, rebounded off doorways and tumbled down staircases. No one spoke, as they pressed on, all the way to the door that led down into the catacombs, their procession funerial and grim, outwardly; for Náli’s part, he buzzed on the inside, and detected similar anxiety in the curl of Klemens’ fingers on the lantern handle, in the occasional deep breath Danski let out behind him.

It might very well be their last trip of this sort, Náli reflected. In looking for a bright side, he found that he was glad he could walk toward his doom on his own feet without assistance, at least. And that he’d had the chance, however brief, to love Mattias fully, and be loved equally in return.

It took ages.

It took the span of a heartbeat.

Then they stood on the worn-smooth granite floor deep at the foot of the mountain, water plinking ominously somewhere distant, the well as shiny and still as a sheet of ice.

Valgrind was dozing, but roused to greet them, eyes at half-mast and low crooning noises rough from sleep.

Náli took him a morsel of ham, and nearly got bowled over when Valgrind came instantly alert and started shoving roughly at his pockets for more.

“No – no. Down. Sit down, you demon.” When the drake plopped down on his backside, tail flicking at the tip, Náli fixed him with a stern look and said, “Now, I have no way of knowing how much language you actually understand.”

Someone behind him snorted.

“But given your insubordination, I think it’s rather a lot. I want you to listen and listen well. I need you to go down there” – he pointed to the water – “but don’t cross over. Do you understand? Stay on this side.” He pointed at his feet. “Collect the diamonds at the bottom of the pool” – he lifted the one he wore around his neck as an example – “and bring them all back. Can you do that? Go get the diamonds. Bring them to me.”

Valgrind’s nostrils flared and he cocked his head. “Kirik?”

“Go down there, and bring them back. Yes?”

The long, white tail thumped hard against the floor. “Kirik!”

He sighed. “You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

“Kirik,” Valgrind chirped again, turned – nearly taking Náli’s head off with his tail – and dove neatly into the pool without a single splash.

“Odds he comes back with a rock?” Náli muttered. It was the sort of comment he’d been making since boyhood. Early on, his Guard had established themselves as a sort of echo chamber, offering bits of useful advice if he asked for it directly, but otherwise murmuring soothing words, hanging back behind him, in their proper place.

But things were changing, as Klemens had said; every moment shifted the balance. Which explained why, for the first time, Mattias stepped up beside him where he stood at the water’s edge, and offered a smile. “I dunno,” he said. “The beast’s proved damn canny so far, hasn’t he?”

Náli stared at him in open wonder a moment – oh, how he’d always wanted this, having his rock beside him rather than behind – and then felt his own smile tugging at his mouth. “I suppose so,” he said, grudging, but smile growing even wider. “He’s occasionally useful.”

Mattias’s gaze went out across the pool, and he nodded. “Look.”

Náli did, and saw bubbles forming on the surface.