Aw, cupcake.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he took a deep, easy breath and sighed with relief.

After Pia had finished, she kissed his forehead.

“I know you didn’t do it for me,” Bel whispered. “You did it for him. But still, thank you so much.”

Pia nodded and wiped her face. She said, “You’re right, I didn’t do it for you, but both you and he are welcome. And if I can’t get you to take a break, at least you need to eat something. I’ll get you a hot meal from the cafeteria, okay?”

“Thank you,” Bel said softly.

“Do you have any preferences?”

“Soup, or really, anything will be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Pia’s quick signature footsteps tapped away.

Silence filled the room, as Pia took away her comfortable ease of manner. Dragos and Bel confronted each other over Graydon’s prone figure.

Bel’s fingers trembled. He wanted to move, to sit up to break the tension leaping between the other two, but he was so damn tired. The thick barrier of cotton wool wouldn’t let him move.

The dragon growled, “You can’t have him.”

After a long moment, Bel said, “I already have him, and I’m not letting him go.” A quiet thread of steel ran through her words. “He’s mine now. But I will tell you this much, Beast. I love him too much to make him choose between the people he loves, and the commitments he feels the need to keep. You’re going to have to live with the fact that I hold that power… and I will not wield it, because what I love most about him is his big, wonderful heart, and I’ll do everything I can to protect it.”

Even though they sounded like they were fighting, a different kind of warmth and healing stole into him. Squeezing her fingers, he fell deeply asleep.

The spike burst out of Bel’s chest. Her dark gaze turned wry, before the light in them faded.

And there was red, dripping into the white snow. Blooming like roses.

With a muffled shout, he woke in a clench.

He was still in the hospital room. The remains of a dinner tray sat on a nearby table. Bel had climbed into the bed with him, curling against his side, with her head on his chest. She was sound asleep.

As he grabbed her, she woke with a start and rose up on one elbow. Her cheek was lined with creases. “What is it?”

“I dreamed you died,” he said from the back of his throat.

Quick compassion flashed across her face. She kissed his neck, the line of his jaw, his mouth. “I’m right here, just as I promised I would be.”

He said against her lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No, never. I swear it.”

He drank in her breath that carried the words of that promise, kissing her deeply. She stroked his hair, kissing him back.

When he could bear to say it, he whispered, “Constantine.”

Her eyes filled with sadness. Wordlessly, she shook her head.

He had already known, but still, he had hoped against hope. He buried his face in her hair, feeling gut shot. She held him with her whole body.

After a moment, he asked, “Rune? Julian?”

“They’re both going to make it. Rune – he took a bad wound to the thigh. It nicked the femoral artery, but when he fell into the icy water, it slowed the bleeding enough. Carling and the medics got to him right away.” She ran her fingers along the line of his bare shoulder. “Julian’s hands were badly burned. I don’t know what his long-term prognosis is. But I know he’s alive.”

“What about Ferion?” He ran his hands down the long graceful curve of her back, pressing her closer to wipe away the ugly memory of the dream.

“He’s okay. He— For a few minutes, I was afraid he wasn’t going to make it. I don’t know much, yet, about what happened back at the Elven residence after I left except that I heard Ferion tracked down and killed a few of Malphas’s spies. Malphas had fixed the soul lien so that it would kill him if anybody tried to remove the spell, but Soren was able to break it before Ferion choked to death. Soren’s —” Through the palms of his hands, he felt her swallow hard. “He’s gone too. Malphas was trying to run when Soren stopped him.”

Two eternal souls, gone forever.

“I remember,” he said in a low voice. He thought of the crashing Power overhead, and the destruction on Hart Island. “Gods, what a high cost. Did anybody else die?”

“No,” she told him quickly, kissing him again. “Everybody else is okay.”

He nodded, turned his face away and covered his eyes with one hand. Pain tore at him, along with sickened grief.

Silence fell in the room. Bel nuzzled his chin and stroked his hair, offering comfort. After several minutes, he whispered, “I feel like this is all my fault.”

Her head had begun to drift down to his chest again. At those words, she straightened back up. “How can you say that? Why would you think this was all your fault?!”

After spending his whole life hiding his visions, it was remarkably hard to break the silence. He forced his way through it, saying through gritted teeth, “I’m – I guess you’d say I’m psychic. I see things before they’re about to happen. Sometimes I can change things just enough, so that something else happens instead.”

The alarmed concern in her eyes turned to fascination. “You have the second sight?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Always have. I… saw what happened on the beach a long time ago.” Unable to look at her, he averted his face. “Not everything. I never see everything clearly.”

“I’ve had several conversations with previous Oracles over the years,” she murmured. “Every one of them said that visions can be terribly difficult to interpret.” She asked gently, “What did you see?”