“I’ve always wondered what you thought when you first saw me.” His hands slipped down to grasp my hands as he preened just a little with the lift of his chin and the squaring of his shoulders.

I felt obliged to prod him. “I thought you weren’t as handsome as you so obviously thought you were.”

A laugh crinkled at the corners of his eyes without quite making it to his mouth. “How quickly did you realize you were mistaken?”

“Oh, Vai,” I breathed. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t find you.”

I threw my arms around him just as he crushed my body against his. At first I simply held on, letting my heart beat into the rhythm of his. It felt so good to embrace him. When I tilted back my head to look at him, he pressed kisses on my eyes. I pressed my mouth to his throat. Hot blood pulsed beneath my lips, so close I could have ripped through to it with a single bite and joined in the feast now consuming the thoughts and attention of the spirit courts. I shook myself away, pulling out of his arms.

“We have to go,” I said. “The courts will finish feasting and remember you. And what if the tide of a dream washes through and catches us?”

“We’re safe from tides here. The walls ward the pit.”

“What pit?”

The mocking curve of his lips made me shudder. “Your sire threw me into this pit. The creatures swarmed after me, too many for me to fight off. I climbed up here just ahead of them and smashed both stairs with my cold steel. Since they can’t climb, they can’t reach me. I would be dead if I had not grabbed that bundle of provisions out of the coach.”

“I stole all that when I was imprisoned on Salt Island.”

“That’s what kept me alive. But I’ve consumed all the food and drink.” He knelt to rummage through my pack. Opening one of the flasks, he took a thirsty swig, then a more measured swallow. After, he offered it to me.

I shook my head. “I drank my fill at the gate.”

“No food?”

“None. The mansa found us before we had made all our preparations.”

“When did you encounter the mansa? I suppose that is a tale to be told later.” He emptied the pack, nodding with approval when he found my sewing kit and some of his carpentry tools. But it was his shaving kit and the little box that held sheaths that made him stare. “Lord of All, Catherine, I must say you are well prepared for adventure of one sort or another.”

It is an odd thing to know you stand close to death and yet laugh.

What part of my thoughts he read from my expression I did not know, but his gaze softened. “You never give up, do you, my sweet Catherine?”