Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
FINLEY
Etienne’s breath came in rapid bursts, his body curled tight like he was trying to disappear into himself.
For a few beats, I couldn’t breathe either.
The sight of him like this, shaking and gasping and alone, crashed through my veins.
How many nights had he fought this without me there to pull him back? How many nights had I forgotten him while lost in Brenton?
But my guilt wouldn’t help. Not him and not me.
Kneeling in front of him, my hand hovered in the air before I lowered it to my lap. He didn’t need to be touched yet. Not until the storm in his head subsided enough that he could see me.
“Etienne,” I whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
I repeated those words, I’m here. You’re safe as much for him as for me.
At first, nothing changed. His breaths came too fast, his eyes were too wide and unseeing. So I kept talking, keeping my words soft and even, hoping it’d serve as a lifeline.
Something in his eyes flickered. The smallest shift, a beat of focus as his gaze moved, searching. It was enough.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” I whispered, holding still until his frantic breaths came less violently.
Only then did I inch closer, slow enough for him to track my movements, and let my fingers graze the outline of his hand. He didn’t flinch. So I eased him forward, bringing him against me.
He collapsed against me like he’d been waiting for me all this time. His forehead pressed against my shoulder, his shaking fingers knotted weakly around my shirt. I cradled him, my hand moving up and down across his back.
Slowly, his breaths started to match mine.
I let my eyes drift toward the doorway where I knew I’d find Brenton. He held himself rigid with one shoulder braced against the frame, jaw tight, and every inch of him coiled and ready to strike if Etienne so much as whimpered. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
Seeing him standing guard like that loosened my chest. Despite all the cracks between us, he was still there. Still mine in ways neither our words nor our actions could touch.
In my arms, Etienne’s breaths evened out, warm against my neck. “Finny,” he rasped out, his fingers curling tighter around my shirt.
“You’re safe.” I kept holding him, kept whispering to him while my attention was locked on Brenton.
Brenton only left after Etienne was calm.
He lingered, his eyes on me, and gave me a single nod, asking me if I was holding it together.
I nodded back, and he slipped away. Not gone, exactly.
His presence remained, woven into the soft sound of his footsteps moving through the house and into his scent that clung to the air.
It threaded through every corner, hung everywhere I would go.
I hated how much it steadied me.
I hated it even more that it felt more like home than it ever had.
It’d taken almost an hour for Etienne’s panic to fully fade away, leaving behind a familiar stillness.
I curled up on his bed with him beside me, the same way we always ended up when the outside world got too loud.
He lay on his side with a blanket tucked under his chin while I propped myself up against the headboard with my knees drawn in beneath the same blanket we shared.
A half-empty bowl of popcorn sat between us, the buttery scent hanging in the air.
He picked at it, not really eating but keeping himself busy.
This was our rhythm. Quiet. Easy. Safe.
With the bottom of my foot, I nudged the bowl closer to him. He gave me a look that almost passed for a smile. His hair still stuck up, half wild from when he’d pulled on it earlier. Dark circles lined beneath his eyes, but he looked more himself.
He shifted onto his side and poked my arm. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“What’s going on between you and Brenton?”
I tilted my head up, exhaling a long string of breath toward the ceiling. “Nothing,” I whispered. “We tried but . . .” I shook my head, the words splintering apart.
“He’s been here all day, Finny,” he said, voice soft but firm.
It was the same tone he used on his students when he saw through their excuses.
His eyes were swollen from exhaustion, but still clear when they held mine.
“Standing guard at the door while you pulled me back. And somewhere in the house since then.”
My throat tightened.
“Something happened between you two.”
I picked at a piece of popcorn, watching it crumble back into the bowl, leaving salt and butter on my fingertips. He reached into the bowl, flicked a kernel at me, and I watched it bounce off my shoulder.
This was what we did. What we were for each other. A safe place to land when the world didn’t make sense.
My eyes burned, tears gathering faster than I could stop them. I pressed the heel of my hands against them, but it was useless.
“Finny.”
He didn’t hesitate but sat up, arms open, and pulled me in, tucking me against his chest like he’d done a hundred times before. His embrace was familiar and comforting. Like family.
I didn’t know how long he held me, only that he did until I was ready to let go. My face was buried in his shirt, damp with tears, and when I finally stopped, he leaned back enough to tip his chin down.
“Talk to me.” His voice was soft and gentle but unrelenting.
It wasn’t exactly a demand. It never was with him, but an open door.
So I told him.
About Zaicha and how she’d used me as a conduit, twisting my magic into a weapon I couldn’t control. How the death god wasn’t some distant myth but my father. How Brenton and I had fallen into each other, our bond only growing stronger when we tied our magic to our bond. How we became an us.
He listened as he always did.
Then came the cave. How I’d been ready to burn every last thread of my magic to stop Zaicha from using me. How, in doing so, I would’ve burned Brenton’s magic out, too. How furious he’d been that I’d make such a choice for him without his consent.
My voice cracked. “Not even an hour later, there was this boy. The villagers believe Zaicha attacked him because he’d been fine before he collapsed.
By the time I got to him, he was so close to death.
My magic was already exhausted from healing the dragons and then trying to burn my magic out.
The only way to save him was to give him what was left of me. ”
Unable to meet his eyes, I swallowed hard, my fingers digging through another kernel of popcorn.
“Brenton must’ve felt it in our bond. He sent a surge of his magic through mine.
Pinned it down. He held me there until he severed the connection.
The boy died.” My chest heaved. “I could’ve saved him, but Brenton . . .”
Etienne didn’t rush to answer. His tired eyes searched mine. “The cost to save the boy was you,” he said quietly. “What else could he have done? I would’ve done the same thing. And if it’d been Brenton sacrificing his life, you would’ve done it too.”
My protest stuck in my throat. He was right. I would’ve decimated all of Vistos, the boy included, before letting Brenton give himself away.
Etienne tilted his head. “Can you really be angry with Brenton when you would’ve done the same thing?”
I didn’t answer, but I didn’t have to. He knew.
He knocked his shoulder against mine. “Finny.” He let out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to keep trying to erase yourself or your magic to fight her. You’ve got to take control. This is your magic. Your power. Not hers. Stop letting Zaicha dictate the cost.”
“I’m trying—”
“Are you, though?” His head tilted, that familiar half smile tugging at his mouth.
The one he used when he said something sharp but wanted to cushion the blow.
“Because it sounds like you’re ready to throw yourself on the pyre again and again instead of fighting for you.
” He leaned in, his voice coming gentler now.
“What if you don’t have to give anything away?
Not your magic, and definitely not yourself.
What if claiming it, claiming you, is what makes you untouchable?
What if that’s how you beat her? Not by sacrificing any part of you but by refusing to give her a single damn thing.
” His eyes softened. “What if you stop trying to survive her and start fighting back? No more running. No more sacrificing. You face her head-on. All of you.”
Emotions caught in my throat.
“And Finny,” he whispered, “you don’t have to choose between life and death. You wield both. Use it to end her.”
I stared at him, letting the weight of his words sink in and settle in places I’d kept locked away.
He wasn’t wrong. He rarely was when it came to me.
For so long, my magic had felt like a punishment I couldn’t escape. I’d wanted it gone so badly I would’ve given anything. And then Zaicha held that wish in her hands, like a dagger disguised as mercy. She knew my weakest link. My desire to rid myself of what I’d always considered a millstone.
But maybe winning meant choosing me and claiming what was mine. Weren’t those the words I cried to Brenton last night? That I wanted a choice?
“I’ll do it,” I whispered, voice steady. “I’ll choose myself. I’ll fight for me.”
His mouth spread into a small, proud smile.
“But . . . what if Brenton doesn’t want this anymore?” The words came out quieter. “What if he doesn’t want to keep fighting with me? Or keep our magic bound?” I’d told him I regretted binding our magic, but I hadn’t meant it. What if he did?
Etienne looked at me, a smirk in place as he shook his head. “If he didn’t want to fight beside you, he wouldn’t still be here. He wouldn’t have stood at the door all night or stayed in this house. He wouldn’t be Brenton.”
I huffed out an unsteady breath.
His smirk thinned. “Pull on your fighting leathers if you must, but talk to him. All of it. No half-truths or skirting around anything. You hash it out until there’s nothing left to misinterpret.”
I nodded.
Etienne’s shoulders slumped, the exhaustion he’d been holding back washing across his face. His hand twisted around the blanket.
“You should sleep,” I said.
“I’m fine.”
The lie sat between us as he stared at the sheets. His eyes were suddenly too wide, his breath too shallow. Fear still hung onto him even if the worst had passed.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” I said. “And I’ll be close if you need me.”
His throat bobbed with his hard swallow. “I’m sorry. I hate being a burden.”
I brushed his hair back from his forehead.
This male had never been that. He’d been my strength, my person, even when he was encouraging me to seek out Brenton and make him mine.
Even if I don’t know if we were still an us.
“You’re not a burden. We take care of each other.
It’s what we’ve always done. That’s what family is supposed to do. ”
His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile as he lay back down, his eyes fluttering closed. I stayed, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing as it slowed. He jerked awake twice, disoriented and scared, but I was already there to steady him.
Eventually, he fell asleep, but I stayed a bit longer before I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could and padded down the hall.
The house was brighter with the sun sweeping through the windows.
I found Brenton in the kitchen, elbows braced on the counter, staring at a glass half-filled with water.
He didn’t look up when I entered.
“Ashara came through the tear a little while ago.” His voice was rough and tired. “She’s outside with Hoshiko.” His gaze finally lifted, finding mine. His mouth opened like he might say Lolli, but he swallowed it down instead. “You’re not alone, Finley.”