Page 16

Narsus flew, circling the cliffs below Temple Prime. Cliffs he felt great shame in revisiting. All he’d found were torn fishing nets and broken bottles.

It had been three long days since he’d made his mad dash from the kitchen. Terrified, he scrambled to remember the days, praying he was correct at seven. Technically, they were at the halfway point in the countdown. Or just past it, depending upon how precisely the magic itself worked.

He again scanned the craggy rocks and the breakers crashing against them. Marine life bobbed in the waves. The sun reflected off the whitecaps, drawing his attention to every glimmer he couldn’t ignore, despite the fact his compass was too heavy to float.

Swimming in his Verdigris body was impossible. He would drown, and he didn’t want to test just how undead he truly was. So he shifted back into his human body just before he hit the water. The turbulent chaos below the cliffs were a shock to Narsus’s system, but he pressed on with his search.

No compass. No luck .

He’d resurfaced for air multiple times, only to plunge back into the depths.

Using his phoenix flames to light up the sandy bottom.

Through kelp fields and near tepid lava flows.

Each mile he traveled yielded only more despair.

Until he was too exhausted to make another dive.

He didn’t want to get too worn out that he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of the water.

Transforming back into his phoenix form, he gave a great heave of his wings, and flew back to his cliff-perch to dry off.

Narsus didn’t know why he thought he’d find it on the first, second, or even tenth attempt.

It was likely he’d never see it again. Just like Brightside would never see his compass again.

Who had he been fooling? Thinking that he’d find it because he’d only chucked it a handful of days ago. It was time to confess. To ask Lune for the help he’d offered Brightside.

Maybe together, they could examine the bond he’d foolishly tried to escape.

Narsus prayed his Intended mate would forgive him if it was never found.

He braced himself against the harsh shoves of the coastal winds, huddling into the craggy rocks. Oh gods. Oh, gods, what had he done? He’d sabotaged himself. Destroyed hope by his own hand.

No. No, he had to have faith. There was still time. Lune’s compass still had gemstones lit.

Brightside’s words echoed in memory: Fight, live!

Narsus shook himself, striving to dispel sorrowful convictions that weighed him down like bricks. Waiting for the winds to dry his feathers to make flying easier .

He had always felt being Compass-born a burden. Now, he was experiencing separation anxiety at its loss. Not just with his compass, but with Lune himself. Even if their interactions were still forming.

The compass was their lifeline to each other. Like they’d already known each other for years. Perhaps they had. After all, Lune had poured his heart out to his compass for years. And in some way, Narsus had silently, reluctantly reciprocated.

With the failed hunt behind him, he knew he had to go home. To Lune. He’d been gone too long, and they had a lot to talk about. It was past time to offer his full trust. That was, if Lune still wanted it.

Narsus found his clothes with the help of the glaring moonlight.

The black garments were a beacon against the lighter-colored landscape.

He had suspicions of who had folded them with care.

But his churning gut was afraid to examine the hows of the deed in detail.

And in what condition he would find that someone he was beginning to care about.

A couple hundred yards down the beach, he saw Lune was curled up and nearly in the surf. Staring up at the stars. The heat of the day had slightly abated. His siren had rolled down his sleeves and buttoned up that blue vest against the evening’s ocean breeze.

Startled, Lune sat up at his approach, brushing off the wet sand and straightening his shirt and vest. They stared at each other in tense silence.

Narsus knew they were both struggling through the hurt and awkwardness.

Both afraid to make the first move in trying to salvage something that was barely even started .

Lune’s eyes shimmered with upset. His, too, were glassy as he had to blot them with his scarf.

Gentle, caring Lune, with the dusting of freckles across that bold, appealing nose.

A land-stranded siren who’d given his all to this match.

It was time Narsus stepped up to do the same, despite the grave fact they would never be able to touch.

Moving a little closer, Narsus stopped an arm-length away, holding the scarf over his nose and mouth lest he exhale unpleasant fumes. “If I worried you, I am so, so sorry.”

His breath did hitch, and he fumbled to add another layer of linen protection over his face. “If I hurt you, I wish there was a way to take it back. Oh gods, I wish I could take it back. My behavior has been callous and cruel.”

Lune opened his mouth to answer, but Narsus’s sight blurred.

“Please, let me finish. I can only pray you’ll understand.

And forgive me.” He deliberately went to his knees.

“I’ll beg if necessary. Lune. I have to be honest. I—I threw the compass off a cliff before meeting you.

I’ve been away. Trying to find it. I—I haven’t been able to find it. ”

Lune’s shoulders were set back and his full lips were flattened into a straight line. “I suspected something like that. Brightside wouldn’t say exactly how it got lost. I’ve been thinking about it since you left. Why do such a thing?”

Narsus swayed slightly as he struggled to voice the truth. “I was afraid. Terrified. Certain that we wouldn’t have a chance together, so it wasn’t even worth the pain to try.”

“Because you’re a Verdigris.”

Dejected, Narsus plopped down into the sand. The surf yanked at the edges of his cloak, sending it back, and forth.

“I’m going to hug you,” Lune announced .

Surely, Narsus heard wrong. “W-what?”

“It’s something you need right now, and I hope it’ll be mutual. Will it, Narsus?”

Lune wanted to touch him? And prolong it? Even though he continued to disappoint this cheery, forgiving siren? This was his test. To himself, and to Lune. Narsus knew he had to forgive himself. To finally trust in their Compass-match. But could he? Really?

Narsus’s heart swelled with agonizing grief. He couldn’t breathe. Why was fear always hanging over him? Why couldn’t he shake it? The words slipped out of his mouth. “No. Touching you. It’s too dangerous.”

Lune seemed to have courage enough for both of them. For his Intended rose to the challenge. “I handled your clothing when you flapped into your phoenix form.”

Narsus startled himself with an anxious half-laugh. It alleviated some of the stress. “Flapped into my phoenix form?”

“Say that three times fast.” Lune grinned, holding up his hand, palm up. “I forgive you, Narsus. We can work through this. There’s still time. And even when the time does run out, we’ll figure it out.”

Narsus felt lightheaded that he even considered allowing a hug. He felt cowardly. Brave. Reckless. Stupid. Harmful. As if a part of him was hanging on by his fingernails, hoping. Even though he knew it could never be. “Don’t you dare move. Not a muscle.”

“I promise, Nar.”

Nar. An endearment picked up from Brightside and Cinder.

Still, he found he liked it coming from Lune.

Narsus crept a little closer until he could smell the brine, the coolness of the ocean radiating from Lune’s skin.

Narsus pulled the cowl up over his head.

Adjusted the fabric guarding his face. He bent his taller form down and tenderly allowed his shielded cheek to rest against Lune’s chest.

“I’ll—I’ll only be a moment,” Narsus promised.

“No hurry.”

“No, I dare not linger.” Narsus squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to hold back tears. This. This was friendship and trust of the highest honor. And he was grateful.

“Linger all you want, sweet Narsus.”

And he did.

The eager press of another warm body. The quiet weight.

The muted intimacy of it was addictive, and all so strange.

Yet felt so right. It was only seconds later a terrible ache sprang inside Narsus’s jaw.

His chin trembled. A sharp sting of relief and grief traveled up his neck, and chased the emotional ache.

He was actually touching another living being.

Someone who cared about him. Someone he was experiencing great affection for. No. Not merely a someone. Lune. His fated mate. Lune, who forgave him, who was willing to fight to be with him. To love him.

The tears Narsus shed soaked into his scarf.

A damp path trailed beneath the fabric of his throat.

Blotting them back into the linen only made them pool further into the fibers.

He was shaking at the stress, the overstimulation of it all.

Narsus told himself to let go. To retreat, but he found himself hugging tighter.

Not wanting this contact, this new connection, this comfort, to end.

He didn’t know a hug could ever feel this warm and tender. This safe.

The bawling and sobs assaulting his ears were coming out of his own mouth.

He couldn’t stop it. With each hitch of his breath, his body rocked in response.

Before leaning into the strength of his Compass-mate’s stance.

Lune was braced like one of the mighty deity statues that surrounded the grounds of Temple Prime, despite Narsus being so much taller.

Narsus didn’t know when, but soon found that he was no longer shaking. Lune’s heartbeat was a slow, calming thump against his ear. Narsus listened to it, allowing himself to feel the love and companionship that was willingly offered.

“Th-thank you. For holding me,” Narsus whispered before pulling far away, and immediately feeling the suck of loneliness once again.

“For k-keeping your promise to not move.” The grief of this simple separation didn’t emotionally hurt as much as he thought it would.

Because he knew Lune wasn’t going to go away.

Narsus wiped his eyes again, this time with the excess material of his cowl.

Lune sat down, pretending not to notice by drawing whimsical lines in the sand.

Lines that curved into hearts. This tender act of kindness made Narsus realize how much more painful it was to exist without love.

But no matter how much he and Lune cared for each other, Narsus still feared skin-to-skin contact would be out of the question.

“I-I’m sorry for carrying on like a child.”

“I’m not,” Lune said. “You’ve honored me with such deep and intimate trust. As fitting between Intendeds.”

The reply should have embarrassed him further. But right now, all Narsus wanted to do was surrender, and feel.

“Lune?” His voice was ragged, gritty. Desperate. “May I have another hug?”

Lune reclined in the dry sand, away from the surf, and outstretched his arms in welcome.