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He begins to tap a rhythm into my back, humming as he does. I can feel the vibrations deep in his chest, the taps soft and even. They ring through my body, making my nerves sing. But unlike the other sensations, it’s not unpleasant.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “This is just what it feels like when your senses evolve.”

“It’s too much,” I gasp. “I can’t handle it.”

“Yes you can,” he says, speaking in between hums, continuing to tap against the top of my spine. His finger is like a metronome, reminding my heart of the rhythm it should be beating to. I feel it begin to slow. I blink, and my eyes start to adjust to the detail around me, balancing the world back out so that the new sharpness feels more normal.

“Keep breathing, focus on me,” he says.

I inhale, finding that my lungs can take in more air this time, and the noise of the world has dampened a touch. I can still hear the servants down the corridor, but their footsteps no longer sound violent to my ears.

“How do you know to do this?” I ask, my words coming out hitched and disjointed, gasped out in breaths that aren’t back to normal yet. Then I immediately feel foolish for asking a question Ruskin can’t possibly answer, not with his past closed off to him.

I think he picks up on my embarrassment, brushing back a strand of hair from my face so he can better meet my gaze—reassuring me. His touch sends a flutter through my heart, just as it starts to find its normal rhythm.

“I didn’t know at first,” he says. “But in our time here, I began to notice that my senses seemed superior to Lionsvale’s.

“Yes, because of your Unseelie blood,” I say, focusing on his words to keep me grounded.

“Those heightened senses are more acute at some times than at others. Especially when shifting from my Seelie to Unseelie features. When that happens, the rush of information entering my senses can be…disconcerting.”

I stare at him. “So you’ve experienced this too?”

He nods. “More than that, I had an instinctual response when it first happened. A way to manage it so I didn’t become overwhelmed.” He takes my hand and puts it over his heart, allowing me to feel the beat of it, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply. “I asked Cragfoot about it. I wanted to understand what was happening to me. He said it’s been the same ever since I was a child, when my Unseelie features first began to show themselves. I struggled with it then, but with his help I learned to manage it. It seems I have been doing it ever since, and it’s a habit now—ingrained enough that I still somehow knew what to do even when the memories weren’t there.”

“I never knew,” I admit. I’m struck by the fact that I’ve learned something from this Ruskin that the old version of him never told me about himself. Maybe because he just didn’t think it necessary to share, or maybe because part of him didn’t like what it meant—that he could never escape his Unseelie side.

The sensory flood feels less oppressive now, but my senses are still enhanced, sharpening my experience of the world. When I inhale, Ruskin’s scent is still the same tantalizing mix of sweet muskiness, but there’s more to it now: there’s an edge to the sweetness, and a depth to the earthiness, notes that I was blind to before. I find it all the more enticing for it, fresh sensations sparking in my body.

“But why is this happening to me?” I ask at last. That’s the real question. One I’m afraid of the answer to.

“Perhaps for the same reason you continue to look more fae every day,” he says emphasizing the point by stroking a finger along one of my cheek bones, which have become more prominent lately. “Interra could have gifted you this. Or there could be other explanations. But you mustn’t worry. I learned to manage it, and you can too.”

I try to swallow this, but every time someone says my change in appearance is a ‘gift,’ I feel uneasy. I know Ruskin doesn’t remember me before, so it’s not like he’s comparing my more human face and this one, but it still feels wrong.

“And the strength too?” I ask. “I was strong enough to push you away. That’s never been the case before.”

Sorrow fills his face, and to my dismay Ruskin steps back, removing his arms and the warm pillar of his body from around me.

“I was unforgivably reckless. I should’ve never started that spell without warding the room first.” His fingers curl into fists. “When I think about what might’ve happened?—”

“But it didn’t,” I say, stepping closer to him, yet he remains turned away, closed off from me.

“I could’ve hurt you,” he says the words with a hard edge of self-disgust.

“Ruskin, I pushed you away in that moment because it was necessary, not because I was afraid you’d hurt me,” I say truthfully. “I’m your naminai. Even in whatever regressed state you were in, the bond would’ve prevented you from doing me harm. If nothing else, your self-preservation wouldn’t allow it. I remember how painful it was just being apart from you when you were in Interra, I can only imagine how harshly your body would reject any action that jeopardized my well-being.”

I let my words sink in, and they seem to work, because Ruskin turns back to me, a different expression on his face now, looking at me like I’m the only light in a vast night.

“You’re right, Eleanor.”

I sense he’ll let me go to him now, and as I get closer, he pulls me to him, wrapping me up in his arms.

“I know so little about you, and yet I also know you with my very soul.” He stares into my eyes, as if searching for the answers there. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel breathless again, chasing away most other thoughts. “Every fiber of me is connected to you.” He lays a hand over my chest, in a mirror of our positions moments before. “I feel every heartbeat. No matter how deeply I slip into the darkest parts of myself, the bond is still there, unshakeable, and that gives me strength.”

“I feel the same,” I say, wanting to assure him. This is still new for this version of Ruskin, I remind myself, and it occurs to me that it must be bewildering, to feel so close to someone you’ve known for such a short time.

“Do you?” he asks, sounding doubtful. “Can you possibly feel the same depths of emotion I feel for you? It seems unique, unsurpassable.” He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Part of me believes that no one had ever felt this way before. I would fight every member of this court to keep you safe if I had to. I would tear this world apart to rebuild it for you if you asked me.” His eyes widen, his hand cradling my jaw. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but that devotion is just as much a part of me as my magic and my blood. You once said my memories are what make me, me. But I have a handful of things that survived Interra—and they all pale in comparison to you, Eleanor. You are what makes me who I am. My tether in a realm where I’m otherwise adrift.”