Page 160 of Grave Situation

He makes a humming sound. “Are you asking if there’s a guide on how to reconstruct the consciousness of a god?”

“It’s not a stupid question. Not very stupid, anyway.”

He straightens. “It’s not. I don’t know exactly what I’ll find, but I presume it will be in the part of the brain that makes you uniquely you. That’s not something we usually heal, since it’s centered around personality. Honestly, we don’t even look at it.”

This isn’t reassuring. “So you’re going to poke around in a part of my mind that you’re not familiar with and that’s the most personal, private part of me? Delightful.”

“Why do I love you, again?”

Grinning, I kiss his cheek and then stand. “How do you want to do this?” I try to sound confident and self-assured, and not like my palms are sweating.

His head snaps up, startlement all over his face. “Now? You want to do it now?”

“No, but waiting isn’t going to gain us anything. The dragons are patrolling over the estate, but the stone’s insistence that they can’t act without… me, means that everybody’s in a holding pattern until the right me arrives. If Uncle and the main zombie army move out before we’re ready, even more people will die, Jaimin. We’re barely coping with small groups of zombies.”

“They haven’t moved yet,” he says stubbornly.

“But they could anytime. What happens then? A pitched battle somewhere in Rebithia, or wherever we can get enough dragons and mages together to make an impact? How many more will be killed and turned into zombies? We can’t delay.Especially because we don’t know if this is the right answer. What if you’re not supposed to heal me, and we need to keep looking for how to bring Wasianth out? We’ll be wasting time if we wait.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and then he nods curtly. “You’re right.” Taking a deep breath, he says, “You’ll be more comfortable if you lie on your bed.”

Oh gods’ turds, we’re really doing this. Swallowing hard, I muster a smile. “Okay.”

I lie down and try to make myself as comfortable as I can with every muscle clenched, and Jaimin sits on the side of the bed, right beside my hip. His warmth is both comforting and disconcerting. He’s going to be in my head in a second.

“Ready?”

No. “Yes.”

He hesitates, then leans down and kisses me hard and fast. “I love you. No matter what happens, I love you, Talon Silverbright.”

“I love you too. It’s going to be okay,” I add, and he looks away.

“Close your eyes. It’ll be easier.”

I obey, wrapping my forearms across my stomach and clenching my fists.

I feel the light touch of his fingertips on my temples. “Lower your shields, just for a second,” he murmurs, and I understand now why fate needed us to love each other. Jaimin is the only healer I would ever let inside my shields.

It’s immediately apparent when he reaches the part of my mind that’s always been private—I feel deeply squirmy, as though someone I don’t know has tried to give me a hug, only worse.

“Oh,” he murmurs, and the note of fascination in his voice is concerning.

“What?”

“Whoa. That echoes.”

Bile rises at the thought of someone being able to hear my words from inside my head.

“It’s just me,” he adds, proving that he can actually hear what I’m thinking.

“It’s still not nice,” I say, choosing to speak aloud. It’s a measure of control. Even if this is Jaimin, the man I’d do anything for and love more than my own self, there are parts of me that should be mine alone.

He chooses to pretend he can’t hear that thought, instead explaining, “I think I see what the problem is. There’s a part of your… you that’s separate. The threads that make up your consciousness are disconnected from it.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I don’t know. I can try.”

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