They all broke into cheers, even Jadren, and Gabriel’s spirits soared, exultant, along with her, the beat of her wings his own, the thundering of her great heart pounding through him. Unerringly, she arrowed toward him, crossing the distance at amazing speed.

“Incoming!” Alise shouted as a group of aerial spirits condensed to hound Nic, and she jogged in the air, distressed, her flight faltering.

“Help Alise?” Gabriel asked Selly, who was already moving to join Han in feeding magic to Alise. The spirits harrying Nic peeled away, attacked in turn, and she shot toward him again.

Now that Gabriel was connected to Nic once more, her fiery magic billowing into him with all her generosity of spirit, wine-red, rose-warm, he no longer needed anyone else. Nic filled him as no one else could, shoring up those lingering weaknesses left by the struggle to save Selly, bringing him singingly alive. Nic drew closer, skimming low over the meadow, Alise’s wizardry battling the pursuing spirits. Jadren had joined the knot around Alise, offering terse advice. Gabriel couldn’t tell if it was helpful or not, but he was focused on Nic anyway.

He ran out of the sheltering saplings as she landed, her wings flapping furiously, dirt and winter-cured plants kicking up in a rooster-tail wake. The moment she halted, he yanked on the threads, still running toward her, bringing her back to human form moments before she flung herself into his embrace.

They stood there, sealed together, shuddering, laughing and weeping as one, and he buried his face in her silky black curls, savoring being able to touch her again. “My heart,” he chanted over and over, feeling indeed as if his heart had been restored, filling the gaping, agonizing hole left by her absence.

She pulled back enough to crane her head back, extracting her hands to frame his face in her palms. “You’re alive,” she breathed. “Aren’t you? This is real, I hope.”

“More real than anything else in the world,” he promised, dropping his mouth to hers. Lush, heated, richer than the finest wine, her mouth opened to him, her magic flowing into him and his back into her in a cycle old as time.

Jadren dragged them back, literally, grabbing them both by the shoulders and yanking them toward the dubious cover of the forest. “Dark arts save me from the stupidity of true love,” he snarled. “We’re not out of trouble yet.”

Gabriel’s gaze followed Jadren’s pointing finger, spotting the undulating river of hunters coursing down the lower crags, straight toward them. “To the horses!” he shouted, taking Nic by the hand and running with her, glad they’d thought to—after the horses had rested—have them all saddled and ready to go, just in case of this very thing.

“Can we outrun them?” Jadren demanded.

“Maybe. With a head start,” Gabriel answered, lifting Nic onto Salve’s back. Her bare thighs flashed as the sheet thing she wore parted, and she made a noise of disgust as she wrestled herself into a more modest covering.