Page 159 of Grave Situation

Jaimin nods. “Exactly that. Does it make sense now?” he asks Peiris, who’s smiling fondly at Coryn.

“My deepest apologies,” they say. “I didn’t explain the translation correctly. ‘Make whole’ is the literal meaning, yes, but the context is important. You see, with this word preceding it, it’s still ‘make whole,’ but more in the sense of… ‘make better,’ perhaps? Or?—”

“Heal?” I ask. My heartbeat has picked up its pace, and Jaimin and I stare at each other, the word hanging in the air between us.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“No,”Jaimin says. “It must be something else.” It’s not the first time he’s said it—as soon as I suggested that he might need to heal whatever went wrong with the godly part of me, he began to argue about it. Peiris agreed that it fit with the context of the prophecy; Jaimin protested. Arimen said it was consistent with some of the stories of the godsborn; Jaimin argued. Coryn thought maybe Jaimin could just have a look at my mind and see if it was a possibility; Jaimin declined. I wisely said nothing then—if Jaimin was going to argue withCoryn, of all people, there was no chance he was ready to listen.

But most of the day has passed and we’re getting ready for bed, and I figured it was time to make my case. Turns out, he’s still not ready to listen.

“Jaimin—”

“No. I refuse to believe that my whole purpose for being on this trip is this.”

That throws me. This is arguably the most important thing any of us can do, with the exception of Wasianth when he finally shows up. When I show up? Whatever. The godsborn can’t defeat the zombie army if he—I—doesn’t have awareness of his abilities. That means it all depends on Jaimin.

“Why? This could save millions of lives. Isn’t that part of your calling as a healer?”

He looks away, his face a study of misery, and I decide it’s time to reassess. This seems to be about more than just what’s being said.

I sit on the edge of my bunk and wait. There are two beds in this room, and neither of them is wide enough to hold both of us comfortably. That hasn’t stopped us from sharing, though. We’ve gotten used to less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements. We did try to move the beds together, but they’re bolted down to prevent them sliding around on rough seas.

I’m starting to wonder if I’ll have to be the one to break the silence, but finally, he grabs his pillow and hits it angrily. “Is this why we love each other?” he demands.

“What?” Did the subject get changed without me noticing?

“The kind of healing this would be—if it’s even possible, because nobody’s ever even considered it before—would be deep inside the personality part of your brain. Healers don’t go there, as a rule. It’s… intimate. You’d have to trust the healer on a level that most people don’t trust others. I can’t think of any healer who’d be willing to do that kind of healing, because it’s uncomfortable for us too.”

His implication hits me hard. “You’re wondering if we were fated to fall in love with each other so we’d trust each other enough for you to heal me.”

He swallows hard and sinks down to sit on the edge of his bunk, still holding the pillow. “I… I’d begun to think that maybe the reason I was here was because you needed me. That I was supposed to be your support system so you could do whatever was needed. I’m okay with that. I actually like the idea of being here not because I’m Master Kahwyn, the healer, but because I’m Jaimin, the man you love and need. The idea that I’m still only needed for my Talent, that you were maneuvered intoloving me just so I can do this…” He trails off, and I toss aside my intention to let him work through this on his own. I’m off my bunk and on his within seconds, curling my body around his and pulling him down to lie with me on the mattress.

“I love and need you, and I’ll still love and need you if you don’t do this,” I promise him. “Part of me doesn’t want you to, anyway. What happens tomewhen Wasianth is back? If I’m going to be selfish, I want to take you and run far away from this ship and everyone who might make us do the things that could pull us apart.”

He stares into my eyes, then inches his head forward until our lips touch. “Me too.”

For a long while, we lie like that, kissing but not, tangled together like we never want to let each other go. Eventually, we sigh in unison, startling a laugh from both of us.

Jaimin pulls back slightly, his lips quirking in the way I love so much. “We can’t, can we?”

“Wecan,” I correct. “But I don’t think it would make either of us happy in the long-term.” We both have too strong a sense of responsibility—even me, which is surprising.

He shakes his head. “No. It wouldn’t.” Sighing again, he untangles himself from me and sits up, and I make a grab for him as he immediately tumbles off the narrow bed. “Ow,” he says from the deck, and I lean over the edge and reach out a hand.

“I tried to catch you.”

He climbs back up beside me, rubbing his hip. “When we get that tub for our rooms, we should also get a bed so big, we can both lie horizontally across it.”

“Yes. And then we’ll never leave our rooms, and eventually people will start to ask what happened to us, but they’ll never know that we’re living out our lives in peaceful bliss, going from tub to bed and back again.”

He chuckles. “Why did you have to make it sound weird?”

“I didn’t!” I protest. I thought it sounded wonderful.

Sighing, he leans his head against my shoulder. “I have to do this, don’t I?”

“Do you even know what it is you’d need to do?” Maybe we can just plead ignorance.

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