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I snatched the book off the top of the stack, flipping through it frantically. Where was – there. No, no, that won’t do it. I need my notes, my time magic notes. Maybe there –
But there was nothing in my notes, no stunning insight that would let me solve mysteries I’d studied for years in the next few hours. I’d exhausted all the obvious solutions already. No ritual I’d found could handle removing the massive amount of energy contained in the Anchor without killing him. No stasis spell on his body would stop the Anchor’s spread and the degeneration of his arm. Even amputation, as grotesque an option as it was, would only remove the arm itself – the Anchor was tied to him, not to his arm specifically. It would just reestablish itself somewhere else on his body.
Assuming the shock of it didn’t kill him outright.
I was reduced to considering time magic, desperately hunting for a spell that would let me alter the passage of time – to slow it for him, to slow the progression of the Anchor, or to isolate myself from its passage, so I could have more than our scant remaining hours for my research.
I’d gladly spend my lifetime searching if it meant I could save him in the end.
Briefly, wildly, I contemplated striking a deal with a demon. No. He would hate me for it. I wouldn’t become like Alexius, abandoning every principle I held dear in order to save someone who would never want to be saved that way.
Besides, no demon I could reach was going to have the power to handle the Anchor anyway.
Kaffas, I am useless. All the power of a magister, all the training, and in the end I can do nothing to save the man I love. All I can do is watch him suffer.
And die.
No. No. I wouldn’t allow it. There had to be something.
In the bed behind me, Joss stirred with a quiet groan. “Dorian?” His voice seemed loud in the near-silent room. “Come get some rest, ma vhenan. We only have a couple of hours until we move out again.”
“I can’t,” I said, refusing to turn from my seat at the desk. “I’m close to a breakthrough, I – ”
“Dorian.”
I never had been able to lie to him.
“I can’t, amatus. I have to at least try to find something. I’m not about to just give up.”
He moved so quietly that I didn’t realize he’d gotten out of bed until I felt his hands rest on my shoulders. One hand was bare, the other wrapped heavily in bandages soaked in elfroot in a vain attempt to control the pain he was in long enough to let him rest a bit.
Even over the sharp scent of the herb, I could still smell the magic infecting his arm, like newly-cast lightning. And beneath that, the faintest hint of rot.
Even if I could remove the Anchor at this very moment, it might not be enough to save his hand.
I had to close my eyes against the despair welling up in me.
Joss leaned down to press his lips to the top of my head. “It’s all right, ma vhenan.”
“It very much is not,” I snapped, my voice choked. “Vishante kaffas, nothing about this is all right!”
“Dorian, please look at me,” he asked quietly. I reluctantly turned in my chair so that I was facing him. He reached down and cupped my cheek with his good hand. “It is all right. Because I wouldn’t change anything. Not the good we’ve done, not the time we’ve had together.”
Overcome, I could only lean my head against his chest, trying not to cry as he stroked my hair. “If I had more time – ”
“I don’t think we do. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. I should be the one – ”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “These years we’ve had? They’re the happiest I’ve ever been, Dorian, because of you. Because you love me, and I you.” If he felt the tears that ran down my cheeks and dripped onto his bare stomach, he didn’t comment. “Please, ma vhenan. If this is all the time we have left, I want to spend it with you.”
I left my research, my stupid, pointless, useless research, and let him lead me to our bed. But as I lay there, Joss curled warm at my back with his arms around me, I stared at the bandaged arm that rested under my neck.
I failed you, amatus. I’m so sorry.