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Percy cracked one glowing blue eye open, tilted his head, and let out a low chuff of greeting, heralding Erik’s arrival before he tousled Oliver’s hair fondly and dropped down on the log beside him. Oliver winced when he heard the pop and creak of his knees, and the low, bitten-back groan. Erik didn’t complain, though. Peered around Oliver to give Percy a scratch behind the horns, welcomed with a croon like a purr.

“Has he been of any help?” he asked, nodding toward Náli, which earned anotherheyof protest, as ignored as the first.

“No,” Oliver said, and leaned sideways against him, glad of his heat and solidity. Erik flicked his thick, fur-lined cloak around both of them without prompting. “I’m not sure he knows how to be helpful,” he said with a dramatic sigh, to goad Náli.

As hoped, it worked.

Náli drew himself stiffly upright and said, “Well, it’s not my fault you’re both no better than newborn babes when it comes to magic. Even Matti and the boys took to it faster than you.”

Behind him, tying back the flaps of their tent, Mattias frowned and shook his head in denial.

“Once you’re asleep, it’s too late,” Náli continued. “At least to start. I could find it, but you’re not used to it. You’ll have to cross over purposefully, and that means entering a meditative state – as you did when we magicked the torq for Ragnar.”

Ragnar’s name landed like a shower of sparks in the center of their group. Oliver flinched away from it automatically – especially when he recalled encountering a whining, bloody-mouthed, wolf-shaped Ragnar in the Between, sitting loyally at Leif’s feet – and saw Tessa cringe as well. Erik didn’t react outwardly, save the flex of his fingers where they rested on Oliver’s waist.

Náli’s mouth twitched to the side before he continued. “Do you remember that? You have to consciously withdraw from the physical realm. Open yourself to the magic that lives inside you, and see what it will offer.”

“It was…intimidating. Before,” Tessa said, and when she chafed her hands together, Oliver wondered how much of the gesture was because of the cold, and how much was the result of memory. That moment standing in the yard, prodding at the great reserve of glimmering power waiting, undetected, at the base of their skulls. He knew why Náli called the catacombs in the Fault Lands a “well.” It was like walking through a familiar room, one he’d known all his life, and suddenly realizing there was a trapdoor under the rug; like lifting it up, and seeing a great depth of gleaming water full of firefly glow, and sensing that if you fell in, you might never stop falling. It was the seat of his connection with Percy…but it was largely unknown, too, and he didn’t relish the thought of diving too deeply without some sort of safety tether.

He knew, though, as Tessa must know, that Náli couldn’t go along and guide them directly. They could interact with him in the Between, but getting there was a task they must face alone.

“Can the drakes help?” Oliver ask, resting his hand on Percy’s face. “You said Valgrind was guiding you, making the way easier. Can’t Percy and Alfie do the same?”

Náli shrugged. “Probably.”

“Informative,” Erik said, deadpan.

Náli started to offer a retort, then clearly thought better of it.

“Supper,” Rune announced, loudly and with relish, as he arrived with two boys carrying a wooden board stretched between them, laden with roast, sliced meat, and heels of bread.

Conversation came to a halt, as food was distributed; no plates, only dripping venison stuffed into bread, and the hems of their cloaks for napkins. The bread was already stale and going crusty at the edges, but the meat was fresh, and still pink in the middle, and Oliver was so hungry it tasted like a perfectly-seasoned party feast back in Drakewell. As he polished off the last bite, and licked the juices from his fingers, he knew a sinking sensation: the food they’d brought, like bread, and hard cheese, and preserved meat, would wane as they traveled, until they were forced to buy fresh supplies in the South, if there were any, or, continue to hunt, and forage. With spring coming on, there’d be apples and peaches on low-hanging limbs, and berries in the bushes along the roadways; deer and boar and hare to hunt, and spawning trout and salmon in the rivers. But that was if the Sels hadn’t scoured the land. If they hadn’t killed off crops and wildlife, the full-scale razing treatment, in order to starve out their army.

An unpleasant thought, one he could do nothing about, and so, fed and somewhat refreshed, warm from campfire and drink, he returned to their earlier topic.

“I want to try crossing over on purpose,” he said. “Tonight.”

Erik’s arm had come back around him the moment he finished eating, grounding and supportive beneath the thick layer of the shared cloak. “It’s getting late, and it’s been a long day,” he cautioned.

Oliver turned to face him, his strong profile orange with firelight, the circles beneath his eyes dark from lack of sleep. Oliver smiled as reassurance. “The days will only get longer, dear. Literally, as spring comes on, and, well.” Once they saw some action. By the time they were clashing with the Sels, Oliver wanted to have mastered his magic, able to slip between realms at will, sure of his strength, and hopefully in possession of a few tricks of his own, so that he could combat whatever in blue blazes the emperor had done to him on the other side.

He hadn’t told Erik about that bit.

He’d explained about the Between, about flying there, and even about his encounter with Leif and Ragnar, which had left Erik frowning and massaging at a spot between his brows. But he hadn’t mentioned the emperor, nor the way he’d been able to enchant not only Percy, but Oliver, too. Standing up for himself, and insisting on his autonomy was one thing; sending his lover into a blind rage quite another. If Leif thought he’d looked about to snog the emperor, he thought it best not to pass that information along to Erik.

Erik’s current frown was dark enough, even without knowing. He sighed dramatically, but nodded. “I need to speak with Birger about tomorrow.” He stood, hand lingering through the ends of Oliver’s hair until it had all slipped through his fingers. “Promise you’ll come to bed, soon.” It wasn’t a request. “It’s a long way to fall if you if you’re asleep in the saddle tomorrow.”

Oliver offered another smile, and waved him off. “Promise.”

When he was gone, Náli scoffed and said, “You’re strapped to the animal. Even if you fainted, you wouldn’t fall.”

Mattias leaned over his shoulder with a steaming pewter mug. “I doubt King Erik would see that as reassuring,” he said, dryly. “Don’t you come to bed late, either.”

Náli made a face…but was quickly smiling when Mattias sent him alook.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Rune asked, as Mattias departed, and Náli turned a sour look on him, and flicked a twig at him for good measure.

“What are you still doing here,your grace?” Náli shot back. “All the non-magical people have gone to do non-magical things.” He gestured to their small gathering, down to just the three of them, now, and Rune.