“Torrik—” Nina didn’t even get the sentence out before Mamá erupted into a long and very creative condemnation of Nina’s ex-husband.
“Mamá,” Nina said firmly. “Now is not the time, and I don’t want Trina to hear it.”
Mamá gave a dismissive wave. “Trina’s Spanish is limited on a good day, and now she looks like she’ll fall over any moment.”
Nina grimaced, but Mamá was unfortunately correct. Mamá shoved a cutting board at her, and Nina sighed and began chopping carrots.
“He’s a good boy,” Mamá announced suddenly.
“You just like that he speaks Spanish,” Nina said wryly.
“No. That’s nice, but I have an instinct for this, hija.”
Nina held back a smile, but didn’t argue. “What are these carrots for exactly?”
“Soup.”
Nina raised an eyebrow. “None of your soup recipes have carrots.”
Mamá paused, wooden spoon hovering over the pot. “But Trina likes them. I’m adapting. You always complain that I need to.”
Nina pursed her lips. “Not always.”
“Enough.” Mamá waved a hand at her. “Now get out. I can see you fidgeting. You clearly have plenty to do. I’ll do this, you make sure my granddaughter comes out of this alive.”
Nina’s heart skipped a beat, but she did as ordered, quietly pushing through the kitchen door. Syrin stiffened as she stepped into the living room, but his eyes weren’t on her. They were on Trina, asleep against him and murmuring something in her sleep. Her color looked better than earlier. Syrin, however, looked like someone balancing on a narrow ledge. He adjusted his position slightly and slowly, like he didn’t want to wake her.
Nina watched and then stepped forward. Syrin went utterly still, glancing up at her. “I—”
Nina sighed, sliding into the armchair. “You don’t have to explain,” she said in Kirathi. “I saw her lean into you.”
Syrin’s glow flickered to silver. “I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of her,” he murmured.
“Good.” Nina’s expression softened. “I know propriety looks different in Crithnon, and if you want to stick with that, I won’t press you. I just also want you to know that I’m not judging you by those standards. Not when Trina is involved.”
Syrin blinked.
Nina leaned forward. “But back to business. You not having access to fire—”
Syrin raised his hand. “Wait.” He looked down at Trina’s face. “I don’t understand this infection. I have no idea if it can still perceive us while she’s unconscious.”
Nina let out a long breath. “Which means you have to leave her for us to plan.”
Syrin gave a sharp nod. Not the nod of a concerned boyfriend. The one that reminded her he was a healer in his own right.
Nina glanced at Trina. “And you don’t want to leave her.”
Another nod. “I didn’t want to worry her, but what I’m doing… it’s like holding back a tide with light.” He let out a sharp breath. “Only the tide is fighting back. It’s not predictable.” He grimaced.
A shiver ran down Nina’s spine. “You’re saying you’re constantly trying to balance keeping the infection back with burning her.”
Syrin’s expression tightened, but he gave another brisk nod. “It’s easier when we’re touching. Easier to tell what’s too much.”
Nina held back the panic that threatened to rise. Panic would do nothing. Panic would only stress Syrin, and that would make things much worse. “But you can tell when you’re away from her?”
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“Yes,” Syrin bit his lip. “Through the cuffs. I strengthened their connection to me, but that’s like waiting to hear something fall rather than monitoring it.”
That was going to make escaping the Tower extremely complicated, and even here, Mamá had almost—
Nina paused, memory flickering. “You wouldn’t have left if my mother had ordered you to. Trina just saved you from an argument.”
Syrin nodded.
“You should have said something.”
Syrin shifted uncomfortably. “She’s scared enough as it is,” he said quietly. “It’s my fault she’s even in this situation. I’m worried the fear will make it worse, and I couldn’t tell you without leaving her,” he admitted.
Syrin’s glow flickered, almost as if in emphasis. His magic was tied to his emotions. Of course, that would be a primary concern.
Lights. This was a mess. Nina rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to be running triage on her own daughter, but they didn’t have much of a choice. “We will have to discuss plans again. Going in blind is just as dangerous.”
Trina shifted, and they both froze. Syrin’s hand gently caressed down Trina’s arm, but she didn’t wake. Then he looked back up. “You make the plans. Once she wakes, Lady Anita can sit with her while you fill me in.”
Nina’s lips twitched. “Don’t call my mother Lady to her face, no matter how respectful you think it is. Abuela is fine.”
Syrin’s glow flickered between silver and gold, but he smiled. “Very well.”
She was fine with making the plans. She already had a rough idea, but it would be better with Syrin’s input. He was far more familiar with the Tower.
“Why wait?” Nina asked. “I’d rather give you time to think it over if I made a wrong assumption.”
Syrin’s hand brushed Trina’s hair. “Better when Trina is awake. Then she’ll have at least some control. Sleep is the most dangerous time. She can’t fight it while unconscious.”
Nina stared at Trina’s face. Trina didn’t deserve this.
For a fleeting, treacherous moment, Nina thought: If Syrin had never crossed into her life, none of this would be happening.
She pushed the thought aside just as quickly. Blame wouldn’t save her daughter, and Syrin was a victim just as much as Trina. But why couldn’t it have been reversed? Trina’s infection could have been the simple one. Instead, she was here, and her daughter was dying. Syrin was their only hope of fixing it.
She took a breath. Solutions. There was a solution. Lights. She was fortunate, wasn’t she? How many people on Kirath could treat this? Ten? Less? And one of them was sitting here on her couch, holding her daughter as if letting go wasn’t an option.
He’d hold the line here, and she’d make sure that when they got to the Tower, they’d live long enough for him to heal Trina. “I’ll draw something up then. We’re going to have to get out immediately now.”
“I know,” Syrin said softly. “We’ll make it work. Perhaps more time to evaluate the situation in Crithlinor is better.”
Nina sighed. “I’m going to need you to try to send something ahead.”
Syrin winced. “It might put them in danger.”
Nina stood her ground. “Someone is going to be in danger no matter what we do. I’m not letting you through that portal with my daughter unless I think we have a shot.”
Syrin looked like he wanted to shift, perhaps argue, but he glanced back at Trina and went completely still again. “We time it right then. I won’t endanger them.”
“Good,” Nina said, turning on her heel to head to her room, but she paused at the threshold of the hallway. “Syrin?”
He looked up. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re the one taking care of her.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure? If it were someone else sitting here, then you wouldn’t be worrying about a Nightbound infection in the first place.”
Nina let out a long breath. “I’m sure. I always knew danger would find her eventually. If it didn’t, she’d likely go looking for it. Too much like her father that way.”
She met his gaze. “You are an excellent healer, Syrin. I can appreciate how someone cares for their patient without saying they are good enough for my daughter. That status has yet to be determined.”
Syrin was a good kid, but she’d only seen him here on Earth. Going home could change a person. She knew that better than most. She watched his glow flicker between gold and silver for a few moments before finally settling on silver.
Nina softened. “You’re doing well,” she said quietly. “Just keep doing that.”
“Torrik is going to be furious when he finds out,” Syrin muttered. “He told me to keep Trina safe, to not—”
Syrin cut off sharply, jaw tightening.
“Not to flirt?” Nina suggested.
Syrin went bright red.
Nina held back a smile. “Well, I’m a little surprised he thought that far ahead, but good for him.” Syrin stared down at the floor, and Nina hummed softly. “I can’t speak for him, but he might surprise you. Light knows he always surprised me.”
Syrin’s eyes stayed on the ground, his fingers tapping against his knee. Finally, he asked, so quietly Nina almost didn’t hear, “I know it’s none of my business, but why didn’t it work out between the two of you?”
Nina’s breath caught, and she had to fight to regain her calm again. Finally, she said, “Why is it you’re asking?”
Syrin bit his lip, staring down at Trina. “Perhaps I want to know if I’m destined to fail.”
Nina stayed silent, searching for the right words. “Not destined, but if you are looking for an easy path. This is not it.”
Syrin nodded. “I know.”
Nina’s lips twitched. “Then you’re already in a better place than Torrik and I were.”
Syrin blinked, his glow flickering in what seemed like surprise.
Nina smoothed a wrinkle on her sleeve. “Tell you what, we make it through tomorrow, and I’ll tell you the story, and you can come to your own conclusions.”
Syrin nodded. “I don’t plan on dying.”
“Good,” Nina said. “I’m glad we’ve established that’s no longer an option.”
Syrin’s lips quirked up, barely, but the smile was there. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Nina chuckled. “No need to thank me. That one at least, I owed to your mother.”
And with that, Nina swept off into her room. They needed a plan, and now it was up to her to keep them alive.
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