I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He moves to my back and I watch in the mirror as he attaches the cloak. When he’s done, he smooths the shoulders one last time before stepping away. I catch his arm, denying him that retreat, and curl my fingers around his wrist. He breaks into a smile and his eyes flash. An exquisite tension tugs behind my ribs when his glamour reaches out to meet the bright blaze of the ley line.
We have an eternity before us. Let the war come.
* * *