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"The merzost is calling me again," Aleksander whispers, voice tight.The banked fire and the full moon's light are enough to show Luda the black veins crawling up his throat and cheeks as he sits up. When he reaches for her, his fingers look like they've been dipped in ink.
It's been a week since he made the wall of darkness they now keep in sight as they travel south. A week since Baghra resurrected her, and she's still breathing, A week of making camp hidden in tangles of trees and rocky outcroppings like this one, afraid of both otkazat'sya and the oncoming winter.
Luda isn't afraid of Aleksander. She doesn't hesitate, just takes his hand in both of hers. Surety rises in her as she touches him, bringing her healing powers to the surface. She clasps her hands around his, focusing on filling herself with a feeling of rightness, so different from the distortion of merzost in his body.
"Sasha, beloved," she says, and kisses his cheek. The tendrils recede a little.
"I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs.
"You won't," she says, and uses her conviction to focus her powers on what aches in him. It's different from a physical ailment, but she can find it, just like she could seek out inflammation or a broken bone. She strokes her thumb over his knuckles and breathes, and his hand no longer looks stained. Then she raises a hand to his cheek to caress it, pushing back the merzost with all her strength. It's not easy, but it's easier than healing him as he was shot with arrows. She would do both for him a thousand times over if that's what it took.
When she's done, he exhales. "Better?" she asks.
"Much better," he says.
"You should summon," she says. Even this small touch of merzost has drained him noticeably.
He looks at her, the affection in his eyes unmistakable. "What would you like to see?"
"Horses," she says, knowing how much he likes them and loving the way he can bring their movements to life with his shadows.
He smiles, a small smile but still maybe the first she's seen since before Anastas' soldiers came to their cabin. She doesn't want to think about that night, so she watches instead as he brings his hands together making shadows form and gather before the fire, prancing and rearing and tossing their manes.
"Beautiful," she says, as she did the first time he showed her.
When the horses run off into the surrounding darkness, he moves to sit closer to her. She wraps an arm around him, and he leans his head on her shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and strokes his back as his breathing gradually deepens.
"It's not your watch yet," she says. "You should get some sleep." He looks up at her, eyes wide. "I won't let the merzost consume you," she adds, taking his hand and kissing it. "I promise." After all, she's stopped it twice now.
After a moment, he curls up next to her like he's protecting her. She doesn't mind—it means that he's in easy reach. "I love you, Sasha," she murmurs, running her hand down his side in slow, gentle strokes. "I'm here, right beside you."
"Love you," he sighs sleepily.
She watches the moon and watches the camp as he finally rests, and the merzost doesn't trouble him again.
*
Luda startles awake next to Aleksander with a gasp and the beginning of a quickly-suppressed scream.
Baghra sleeps on the opposite side of the cabin from the alcove where their bed is, but it's not a large space, even if it's the nicest place they've stayed in the past year. His mother doesn't stir, although she's hardly the person he's most worried about in this moment.
"What is it?" he whispers.
She snuggles closer to him and buries her head in his chest. After a few moments, she says, "Just a dream. Just an awful dream."
He strokes her hair and waits to see if she'll say more. Times like this, she likes having quiet to get her thoughts together.
"I dreamt of when I died," she murmurs into his shoulder. "I was stabbed, and I couldn't, couldn't fix it and it hurt." She strokes her hand down her side, where the scar is. Unlike any other injury she's healed, she hasn't been able to make the scar disappear, but she's assured Aleksander again and again that she's fully recovered. Physically, at least.
He holds her tightly. "You're alive, my love." Maybe it's heresy to be grateful for merzost, but he thanks the saints and the gods and the ancestors every day that Baghra could bring her back. "You're here, with me." He wants to tell her she's safe, but she despises lies, so he doesn't. None of them are safe, but somehow, someday all Grisha will be. The year that's passed since shadows spilled out of him and made a wall across Ravka hasn't dulled his grief or fury, or his determination.
He strokes a thumb down her cheek, offering his amplification, and he feels her draw on it. He knows enough of what the rise of her power feels like, has listened enough to the way she talks about Healing, to know that she's calming her heartbeat and bringing her body back to balance. She nuzzles against him, her breathing deeper now but her arms still tense where they hold him.
There's a small window in the alcove, and the light of a full moon comes through it as clouds move away. "Look," he says, knowing how much she likes the moonlight.
She shifts so she can look the same direction he does, still resting her head on his shoulder. He clasps his hands and pulls shadows toward them, covering her to her waist like a soft blanket of mist. She runs her fingers through them, finally sagging against him as she relaxes.
"That's good," she murmurs.
He'd worried that she'd be afraid of his powers after he used and lost control of merzost, but she never has been. Instead, it seems she still finds them a comfort. He weaves shadows into the moonlight coming through the window and holds his beloved, until sleep finally comes for them both.
*
Alina shares a bed with Aleksander and Luda now, and sometimes they all share dreams too. She sees places and people she's never seen in waking life. Her beloveds always answer her questions if she asks about them later, although sometimes she doesn't want to bring up painful memories. So many of the dreams are unpleasant, although she sees their past joys as well.
But tonight she jolts awake from a nightmare all her own. She sees the Fold, and feels the volcra's claws lifting her from the skiff's deck. She screams, and wakes up, and just like in her memory, her skin is glowing.
She doesn't want to disturb Aleksander and Luda, so she pulls the light back inside her immediately. They stir anyway, their warm and sleepy awarenesses nudging her through the tether.
"Are you alright?" Aleksander asks, always the lighter sleeper of the two.
"Just a nightmare," she says. She doesn't want to say what it's about. She knows what led to the Fold, she knows what the Volcra once were, and she knows the remorse that Aleksander still carries. She also knows that the Fold ensures the current precarious safety of Grisha.
Aleksander doesn't ask her the details, just opens his arms, and she turns and snuggles back against his chest. The drawn bedcurtains let in a tiny bit of silver moonlight, enough to illuminate Luda as she stirs and moves closer to kiss the top of Alina's head.
Alina sighs and rests her head on Luda's shoulder, held safe between her lovers.
"We saw," Luda murmurs, and there is no judgment in her voice or her presence.
Still, Alina whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't know how this works."
"No need to apologize," Luda says. She pulls Alina closer. "You know neither of us are strangers to nightmares."
"And waking life with you is a joy," Aleksander says, his voice rumbling behind her. "We're here, lyubimaya. We always will be."
Alina sighs, sinking into the comfort of that. No matter what, she isn't alone. The warmth of it lingers, suffusing her dreams when she finally falls asleep again and following her when she wakes to the morning sun, still in her beloveds' arms.