Day 41:

He woke up.

That was the strangest part.

By the time he was conscious enough to remember he hadn't expected to, he was conscious enough to regret waking up at all.

Every muscle that he had pushed in a relentless sprint up the mountain had seized up, cold and tense and cramped all over. His back felt stiff and hot underneath the burning, and his hands were more than a little swollen.

Something slid in the dirt nearby. He managed to peel his eyes open, but it was harder to lift his head. His light had gone out.

"Cor!"

Cold hands touched his face, lifting his head. With the little bit of moonlight he could make out a face hovering in front of his.

Her face.

"Reina." His voice came out like the scraping of rock against rock. His mouth felt like sandpaper.

"Hush. Don't try to talk."

"Noctis… sent me… supposed to… bring you back… before Regis… gets mad."

She stared at him, shocked, like it had never occurred to her that someone would worry about her or come after her when she left.

"Shh." This time she pressed a finger across his lips to stop him talking. "Let me help."

The Ring of the Lucii blazed to life on her hand, too bright so close to his face. He winced, turning away as violet fire danced across her skin. A tingling numbness spread from his face where her hands rested. It soothed the ache in his muscles, untying knots and dissolving cramps. It built up in his hands, across his palms and over his fingertips, like hundreds of tiny needles pricking his skin. It welled up across his burning back and chased away pain and heat with magic.

When he opened his eyes again he could see more clearly. Think more clearly. Clear enough to notice the way the magic cracked her skin, leaving blazing violet lines up her neck and arms, across her face and hands.

"Reina—don't—!"

His arms still felt heavy, his hands clumsy, but he managed to grab hold of her wrists to pull her away. Or he tried, at least.

"Stop!" He tried to pull away from her when he found his muscles too weak to break her hold. "I'm not worth this."

"Hush." She only leaned closer to him, pressed her forehead to his and held so tightly he couldn't have squirmed free even if his back wasn't against stone. "You are to me."

He held onto her but stopped trying to pull her away. He left bloody handprints around her wrists. Underneath he could feel his skin knitting. Sensations faded back to touch and pressure instead of pain and burning. The heat and stiffness across his back faded to a cool glow until he could feel the stone doors against his bare shoulder blades.

And when all that was through—when he felt just as whole as he had been before his shortcut down the rocky path—the violet fire receded from her skin and settled back into the ring. For a moment he swore he could see the faint outline where every line had been. But they faded away.

He was breathless. Still covered in dirt and soot and blood but all in one piece underneath the grime. She sat back on her heels and he let her go.

"Feel better?" She asked.

His head thumped back against the doors. He stared at her, trying to catch his breath and assemble his thoughts.

"Do I feel better? How can you ask me that?" In spite of himself, he found the return of his temper along with his health. "I told you to stop! You can't go around sacrificing yourself for other people!"

Stupid idea. He knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth but too late to stop them. Her eyes opened wide and she jerked back as if he had struck her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but not to him. Not to him now, anyway. To whomever he'd become during those ten years that had turned her into the woman who could take down Niflheim alone but couldn't sleep and was afraid of the dark.

Shit.

"Reina—"

"I'm fine…" she said, her voice slow and distant, her eyes unfocused.

"Like hell you are," Cor said. Why wouldn't she just admit it? She lied more often than she told the truth these days. He bit back an angry retort. Shouting at her wasn't going to help anything.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hugging herself as she sat back on her heels. He didn't do anything. There wasn't anything he could do. Maybe Regis could have held her and told her everything was fine, but usually she flinched away from anyone else who tried to touch her. Usually.

She let go of herself slowly, dragged her hands over the rough stone beneath her. Her mouth moved but no sound came out—at least none Cor could hear. It took awhile to figure out what she was mouthing.

Seven fifty-six.

"Little Dreamer…" Another voice broke the quiet. Only one person could sound so bored and leisurely at the same time. Only one person called her little Dreamer.

Ardyn stepped from the shadows farther up the path.

She looked back when he stopped next to her. "I'm fine," she said, a little less slowly.

"Then shall we do what we came here to do, little Dreamer?" Ardyn offered her a hand.

"Yes." She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. Cor couldn't see her eyes to tell if she was any more focused, but at least she sounded more clear.

Cor hauled himself up. When he was on his feet he could see the bloody patch he had left against the doors where his back had rested. He must have looked a hell of a mess when she found him.

He probably still did. But at least she had found him. Or he had found her. It didn't matter anymore.

"What do you want the Armiger for?" Cor asked.

"To kill Bahamut." Reina stepped forward, unlocking the royal tomb with a touch. Her voice sounded almost normal, but there was a tremor in her hand when she touched the door. "So you see why I can't go back with you. Even though Father will worry."

Hell. She wanted to kill a god? What the hell did that even mean? And why? More unanswered questions. Maybe she'd never be able to tell him why. Hell if he was going anywhere else, anyway.

"I'm more worried about him coming after you himself." Cor followed her into the tomb. A cool burst of air met him—uncannily chill after the heat of the volcano outside.

Reina turned to look sharply at him. "He wouldn't."

She knew he would. Cor didn't bother to correct her.

Ardyn brushed past him in the dark, ran his fingers along the edge of the sarcophagus and came to stand on the far side.

"Tonitrus the fierce!" He said in a voice that echoed off the walls. "Another spawn of my worthless brother. Really, little Dreamer, you keep poor company."

"As a worthless spawn of your brother, I've been forced to resort to forming bonds with similarly worthless spirits," she said dryly.

She held her hand out toward the sarcophagus. Cor had seen Regis do much the same thing but that had been decades ago. No words could describe the burst of magic sweeping over them, causing his hairs to stand on end, as a spectral mace rose from the stone likeness of the Lucian king. Seven other glaives leapt to life around her, each one glowing with an ethereal, violet light. The blue of the mace darkened to purple when it joined her arsenal.

And, with a sweep of her hand, she banished them all.

Darkness closed back in.

"There," she said. "Only two left."

Ardyn held out his hand to her.

"No," she said. "It's late and Cor could use a break. We'll get the last one tomorrow, then secure passage to Niflheim."

Cor could use a break? More like she could. She swayed on her feet and put her hand out to steady herself on the sarcophagus.

Maybe Ardyn saw that too, because he said, "You whim is my command, little Dreamer. But why should we wait for a ship when we could leap there in one bound?"

"Because Cor is with us now."

Ardyn fixed his eyes on Cor. They were yellow. Inhuman.

"Is he?" Ardyn asked. "I hadn't noticed. I'm sure I could fix that, if you wanted."

He held out his hand and a sword leapt to his grasp in a burst of red magic. Just like Caelum magic.

More mysteries. He was getting sick of unanswered questions.

"Oh, stop it." Reina turned her back on him, taking Cor's arm and walking with him out of the tomb. It was a bad pretense to lean on him, but he didn't mention it.

"That's it, then?" Cor asked. "No telling me to go back to Insomnia? No trying to get ahead again?"

"Would you go if I told you to?"

"No."

"Would you follow recklessly if I did get ahead?"

"Yes."

"Then no," she said. "I've already seen what you're willing to do to yourself on the off chance of chasing me down. I can't let you put yourself in danger like that."

She couldn't let him put himself in danger. Something had gone wrong in this bodyguard-princess dynamic.

"Come on," she said. "There's a wide flat space beyond the crater. We'll make camp there."