Syrin got about halfway through his oatmeal before just staring at it. I waited for him to go back to eating, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood too fast, wobbling like the ground had shifted under him. “I should bathe,” he announced like it was a dire strategic decision. “I just…”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to explain. That’s a fair call after fourteen hours unconscious.”

  He flinched, but before I could say anything else, he vanished down the hall. The shower turned on.

  And stayed on.

  I didn’t need superpowers to know he was spiraling in there. He'd be a while, so I cleaned the kitchen. By the time Syrin returned in a clean set of clothes, I'd finished the dishes, scrubbed down the counters, and put away everything that was drying. He padded in, stopping a few feet away from me, his hair dripping and eyes haunted. His flash of good humor had completely evaporated. I set the broom I'd been using to sweep against the counter.

  He stood in front of me, breath catching. “Trina… are you sure? Coming with me… I can take care of myself if we make the right plan. You can stay here, safe, with your mother. You don’t deserve my problems. I don’t want to drag you into danger.”

  “You’re not dragging me anywhere,” I said quietly.

  He closed his eyes, just for a moment, like the words had knocked the breath out of him. When they opened again, they were gray edged with copper, glowing just faintly around the lashes.

  “Trina, I know your father said to take care of me, but this goes far beyond what he would want, and duty doesn’t demand that you—”

  I reached out, touching his sleeve and stopping him gently. “I’m not you, Syrin. Duty isn’t my whole world. I’m definitely not doing this because I owe my dad.”

  His glow flickered between silver and bronze. His hands were fists at his side, knuckles white, like if he loosened them he’d fall apart again.

  “Did you really think I was doing all this for duty or something?” I whispered.

  He looked down. “So, why are you doing this? When we…” He hesitated, but then he straightened, though he didn’t look me in the eye. “When we kissed before, you were unsure. About me. You were right to be. The situation now is far worse than before. I almost got you killed.”

  I shifted, unsure how to even begin. The silence between us stretched longer than it should, like he was waiting for me to say something. I searched for words, but everything seemed wrong, just something that would hurt him further.

  Syrin let out a long breath. “We can talk to your mother. We’ll make a plan, so you don’t have to be there.” The faint pain in his voice hit harder than if he’d yelled.

  “Syrin,” I breathed. I didn’t want to push him, not when he looked as if one wrong word might shatter him. But I couldn’t walk away from this either.

  Finally, he looked up. That was all it took.

  I stepped closer, heart hammering. He didn’t move. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t reach out. He went absolutely still, like breathing wrong might break me.

  So I cupped his face in both hands, tilting it just slightly toward me.

  His breath hitched.

  And I kissed him. No hesitation this time. No confusion. Just… choosing.

  He inhaled sharply against my lips, the sound small and stunned. Then he kissed me back. Light bloomed warm beneath my palms, and behind my eyelids, I saw a soft glow. When I peeked, his light was rose gold, the color pulsing and dancing along his skin. Not bright, just gentle like the ocean waves in the bay where it was calm.

  His arms wrapped around me, and we just stayed there for a moment, and it was a relief after the storm of these last few days. When I pulled back, his eyes were wide, and the rose gold was steady. “Trina,” he whispered. My name was barely more than a breath. “Why would you—”

  “I said later. I just needed to think about things,” I said. “And I did. I know what I want better now.”

  He made a sound that was half laugh and half sob, then relaxed against me like it was the first safe thing he’d done since waking.

  His arms went rigid. Then he recoiled.

  It wasn’t small. Syrin yanked back and literally scrambled away, his glow flaring white. His gaze snapped to my hands like they were suddenly dangerous.

  “Syrin? What—did I hurt you?”

  His breath caught. “Not exactly.” His glow stayed stark white, but something in his demeanor steadied as he focused completely on me. “Trina… do you trust me?”

  I stiffened. “Yes.”

  “This will be… odd,” he murmured, inching toward me like I was a live wire, “but just—just don’t move, okay?”

  A shiver crawled up my spine. “Okay.”

  He approached me slowly, hands slightly out. I’d seen Mom approach patients this way. It made my skin crawl to see it directed towards me, like I was some wounded animal that could lash out.

  “Trina,” Syrin said softly, “do you… feel like hurting me?”

  “What? No!” I snapped, offended. “Of course not! I’m not going to hurt you just because you moved away—”

  “I know,” he said quickly. “I know that you wouldn’t.” His eyes darted over my face, my arms, as if tracking currents I couldn’t see. “I’m asking,” he whispered, “if anything else in you wants to.”

  Something in his tone prickled down my spine. My voice went small. “Why would anything else want to?”

  His glow flickered—white, then gray, then back to white—but his expression didn’t shift. Calm. Focused. Far too calm for how scared he clearly was.

  “Trina?” he said softly. “Can I touch you?”

  My stomach twisted. “Syrin, why? What’s wrong? Can’t you just tell me?”

  “Just trust me.”

  “Fine,” I snapped, heart hammering.

  Light flooded Syrin’s hands, coating his fingers, his palms, until it looked like he was wearing gloves made of light. And then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me.

  I gasped at the warmth. He was warm, but the light bled from everywhere our skin met, lapping across me like warm waves.

  His breath ghosted against my ear. “Trina,” he whispered, “I asked because shadow infections sometimes provoke aggression first.”

  And something inside me, something I hadn’t even known was there, recoiled at his words. Cold rippled under my skin. My muscles tightened, and before I could stop myself, my arms jerked, trying to shove him away.

  For one horrible second, something inside me surged, not mine, not me—something that wanted to claw at him, to fight him. My mind screamed no, but my body didn’t listen.

  My jaw locked. I forced myself still. Syrin’s arms tightened instinctively, steadying me even as my heart tried to punch through my ribs.

  Then the panic hit. I wasn’t in control of my own body! “Syrin, what—what is happening to me? I just— I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t me, it’s wrong, I feel so—”

  “Shh,” Syrin said, rubbing my back in calming circles. “After I passed out, you touched that Nightbound, didn’t you? The humanoid thing with the wolf?”

  Nightbound. The word landed like a cold nail. I didn’t even know what it meant, but I hated the sound. Memories flashed. Drowning in shadow, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. My legs trembled.

  “Trina?” Syrin whispered.

  “Yes,” I finally forced out.

  His glow flickered sharply. “Did your mother touch it too?”

  Images slammed back: Mom swatting shadow off her arm, the way it clung to her skin like tar before peeling away.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “But not like me. She just touched it. I— it wrapped around me.”

  Syrin went rigid. His breath caught, and he swore.

  “Syrin?” My voice broke. “What does that mean? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s fine,” he said immediately, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he held me tighter, as though letting go was dangerous. “We can fix this. It’s just… more complicated than I hoped.”

  The terror in his eyes didn’t seem to match his words.

  “You’re just saying that! Tell me the truth! I can handle it. I just want to know.”

  His arms tightened again. Then slowly loosened, like he had to force himself to ease his grip. “It is the truth,” he murmured.

  I glared at him.

  “I can fix it, Trina,” he said. Then he leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to my forehead. “Promise.”

  I froze. Had he really just done that? I shook myself. Not important. A kiss didn’t solve the problem. Except for some stupid reason, it helped. Because that wasn’t a goodbye kiss. It was a comfort kiss, and Syrin would never do that if he thought I was going to become some shadow creature.

  Still, that feeling of not being in control stuck in my mind, and all the times that I’d seen shadow dancing in my vision earlier. I shivered as my throat tightened. “So fix it now,” I demanded, looking up at him. “Please.”

  He went completely rigid. “No.”

  The word hit harder than the recoil, and I looked up at him in shock.

  Then he was pulling me in more tightly. “I can probably remove the infection from your mother,” he continued, voice tight, “but with you…” His breath shook. “Your exposure was longer. Deeper.”

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  He brushed a hand through my hair. “My connection to the Light is too unstable on Earth. This is delicate. If I try it here—” His throat worked around the words. “I could kill you.”

  “So, there’s nothing you can do?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “You just might not like it.”

  Something warm snapped around my wrists. I jerked instinctively, but Syrin’s arms steadied me.

  “Sorry, but it had to be done,” he said quietly.

  He stepped back, and I lifted my hands. Golden cuffs encircled my wrists. They almost looked like ancient jewelry, except they were too luminous to be metal. And a small chain of light connected them. I tried to pull my hands apart, and the light stretched with them. They didn’t seem to restrict my movement at all, but they looked a lot like handcuffs. “Are these…”

  Syrin winced, copper-tinged white flashing around him. “They don’t pull unless I’m afraid you might hurt someone,” he said. “They’re linked to me, not you.”

  I stepped toward him, just to test it, and the chain shortened instantly, drawing my hands gently together.

  His glow flickered. “See? That was me.”

  A strange twist settled in my stomach. His fear had tightened the chain. Fear of me. I tried not to hunch my shoulders, but I couldn’t quite look at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Trina?”

  I stared at the floor.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said gently. “I’m not afraid of you hurting me. I’m not sure you even could.”

  My gaze shifted up to his, and his glow softened to a conflicted copper-white. “I’m afraid,” he said quietly, “of the Light hurting you if the shadow inside you tries to attack me.” He nodded at the cuffs. “This way, it uses the cuffs, instead of throwing a fireball.”

  “Ah.”

  Syrin hummed. “Yes. And given that I’ve had to cuff you to protect you from myself…” His voice dropped. “I’ll understand if you no longer feel the same way. About me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right, because I didn’t know you were dangerous before, when the Light almost incinerated me.”

  Syrin winced.

  “I know what I’m doing, Syrin.”

  He looked up sharply. “Do you, though?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.

  “Trina,” he said, exasperation and fear bleeding together, “being with me is ridiculously dangerous. You literally got infected by a Nightbound. Do you even know what that means?”

  “No. Because you’ve been very cagey about that information.”

  He let out a huff that was half frustration, half terrified. “It means if I don’t fix it, you eventually become a Nightbound.”

  I blinked. “So, like zombies? The infection spreads?” I didn’t let my voice shake even as images of that thing flooded my brain. The twisted angles of its body, the shadow leaking from it into the world… I’d become that!?! How would I—

  “Zombies?” he repeated, interrupting my spiral with his horrified confusion.

  I didn’t let myself think about the Nightbound. It would be fine. Syrin could fix it. I would be fine. “Yeah,” I said lightly. “They eat people’s brains, but usually they infect people somehow. Sometimes they bite people. Sometimes it’s a virus. Sort of depends, I think.”

  Syrin just stared at me, appalled. “They eat brains!? And you just have these creatures wandering around?”

  “No! They aren’t real. Just, you know… movies.”

  Syrin just stared for a few seconds before finally shaking his head at me. “Trina. We are talking about a real risk. Not some pretend monster.”

  “But the mechanics seem similar,” I said.

  “To nonexistent creatures?”

  “Yeah.”

  He let out a long, pained breath. “Fine. Maybe they are. That’s not the point.” His glow flickered sharply. “The point is if you hadn’t met me, you wouldn’t be infected!”

  My shoulders hunched slightly. It was true, and I didn’t want to become a shadow creature, but it wasn’t like Syrin had asked for it to come to the zoo! He was being ridiculous. “You were very tender a second ago,” I said. “Now you’re trying to convince me that’s a bad thing?”

  “Yes. No—” Syrin scrubbed both hands over his face. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t like you. I do—” He cut off like he’d slammed into a wall. His glow went entirely silver as his cheeks flamed. “I mean… you’re very—This place is…” He made a strangled little sound of despair.

  I just hummed, not sure if I should laugh or panic.

  He stared up at the ceiling.

  “So, I’m not so bad?” I asked.

  His glow flared even brighter silver if that was possible. “Of course not! I just… It’s not you, but no one deserves…”

  His glow sputtered like a lightbulb having a nervous breakdown.

  “No one deserves all of this!” he burst out, throwing his hands up. “The assassins, the portals, the explosions, being burned! Twice! And the shadow infection, the handcuffs, and the— the—” He made an inarticulate gesture at my entire existence. “—everything!”

  I blinked. “Everything?”

  “Yes!” he said, voice cracking a little. “Everything! You deserve a normal life with movies about brain-eating zombies, and shopping with your magic box, and animals that don’t make sense, and… and not this!”

  He stopped, breath hitching like his own words had finally outrun him. His glow dimmed as silver melted toward gray, and he closed his eyes.

  “I can survive without zombie movies,” I said, trying to soften it.

  He looked at the ceiling. “Trina, don’t joke this away,” he whispered.

  I stiffened.

  “You deserve better than someone who puts you in danger just by caring about you,” he finished, much quieter.

  The room went still. The vulnerable truth beneath the panic settling like dust after a storm.

  “But you fixed it every time,” I said quietly.

  He froze. “What?”

  “You got rid of the shadow wolf, and… well, I guess the Light got rid of the Nightbound, and you said you can fix me, right? We’ll get rid of the infection. It will all be fine.”

  He looked at me with wide eyes. “I…”

  “You can fix it. You promised.”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “So, seems like you clean up your own messes. That’s a good thing.”

  “Trina,” he said, his voice almost a whine. “Stop… being calm about this. I’m trying to explain how bad this is.”

  “Will I die?”

  “No.”

  “Will I become a shadow creature?”

  “No. I won’t let that happen.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  He bit his lip, glow twitching like it couldn’t decide on a color: copper, silver, and gold all blending together. Silence stretched, aching. “It will likely hurt,” he admitted. “Healing you. I… I have to burn it out. I haven’t done it by myself before. My father always handled it or helped, and I…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I shivered slightly, because I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little afraid of his fire, but at the same time… it had mostly helped. Sometimes, you needed a little pain to fix things. I knew that well. Vaccinations, surgeries. My mom was a nurse. I knew exactly how things sometimes had to hurt before getting better.

  “I mean… I can’t say I love being your practice case,” I admitted, “but if you hurt me, you’ll fix it. The Light did before.”

  He just stared at me. “But it will hurt,” he said.

  “Some things do,” I whispered. “Sometimes that’s necessary.”

  He let out a strangled sound. “Necessary,” he echoed, barely more than breath. “You say it like it’s simple.”

  “It kind of is,” I said.

  “It’s not.”

  “It is,” I insisted, stepping closer. He stiffened for a second, and the cuffs tightened, but when it became clear I wasn’t attacking him, his shoulders eased and the pull around my wrists loosened.

  Very, very slowly, I reached up, and touched his face again. “It's simple because you’re worth all the associated pain,” I said as my thumb brushed his cheekbone.

  He sputtered. Then went quiet. Finally, “And what about your world, Trina? What about your zombie movies and fixed pricing and buses? I can’t… With my father gone, I can’t leave. I’ll go back, and they’ll essentially chain me to that tower. Not with metal, but with duty.”

  I flinched because, yeah, he wasn’t wrong. Leaving everything behind wasn’t a tiny thing.

  “See?” he said, pulling back. “Not so easy.”

  I glared at him. “Now you’re looking for reasons.”

  He didn’t argue. He just looked solemn. “But it is a reason.”

  “Syrin,” I said quietly. “I’ve been navigating two worlds my whole life. It’s not like I can’t visit, right? That’s more a choice of which one is home base.”

  He blinked.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I insisted. “Just not tonight. I’ve never been to Crithnon, and living in the capital is certainly different from a small village in Talnor. So, different? Yes. But balancing two worlds isn’t new to me.” I bit my lip. “It might be… complicated, but we can figure something out. I just… I need to decide if that part is for me, but I want to try.”

  Syrin’s expression shifted to vaguely hopeful, then he grimaced.

  Was this… was this not actually about geography?

  “Do you think…” I swallowed. “Do you think I might be worth it?”

  He let out a sharp breath, almost a hurt sound. “Oh, Lights, Trina. That isn’t what this is about.” He looked away. “I… I don’t get choices like that. I never have. I just…” He tensed, glow shifting to gray again. “I want you to have them, even if I can’t.”

  I bit my lip. What was I even supposed to say to that?

  He let out a long breath. “It’s okay. You don’t have to choose me.” He said it like he was trying to comfort me.

  “Syrin—”

  He just plowed forward. “You don’t have to give this up for me, Trina. I’m sure there is someone out there for you. Someone you don’t have to give up everything for.”

  “And you?” I asked quietly.

  “For me too. Not you, but… someone,” he finished, closing his eyes.

  I was quiet. “But… do you wish it were me?”

  He cracked one eye open. “Do you truly want to know the answer?”

  I nodded.

  The cuffs around my wrists warmed suddenly, not hot, just warm… nice.

  “I wish it were you,” Syrin said. “But wishing never made it so.”

  He said it like an apology. I just hummed. “Well,” I said slowly, “we don’t have to decide everything today. We just survived a nightmare zoo trip, you found out your father might be dead, and I’m wearing magical handcuffs because apparently I’m part shadow monster. Maybe we don’t make any life choices tonight.”

  Syrin flinched.

  “But that doesn’t mean no.”

  Syrin stared at me like I was insane.

  “Let’s just pretend for now,” I continued, “that I’m okay with living in Crithnon, and then I’ll let you know, okay? Will breaking up in two weeks really hurt much more than doing it now? Not that I expect that, I’m just saying, why panic tonight?”

  It would hurt. Ending this would already burn us both, but two weeks wouldn’t make a difference… Right?

  Syrin blinked. “What?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s try it. Date for now. It’s not like this is a marriage proposal. We’ll see how it goes, and decide when we both have more information, but for now we can just… date. Be together.”

  “Date?” He looked completely lost. “Is that like a betrothal or a courtship or…” He frowned, genuinely thinking about it. “Is it a… trial partnership? A temporary oath? I don’t think I’ve heard of it before.”

  I blinked. “Sort of a trial partnership, but not an oath. Definitely not an oath.” He still looked baffled, so I tried again. “A date is… it’s like two people spending time together because they might like each other.”

  Syrin frowned harder. “So it is a courtship.”

  “No,” I said, dragging a hand down my face. “Courtship sounds like horses and dowries. Dating is more like…” I searched for a comparison he’d understand. “Like an audition.”

  His eyes widened in alarm. “An audition? For what?”

  “For each other,” I said quickly. “Not in a scary way! Just to see if we fit. If we work together. If we… like being around each other the way we think we do.”

  Syrin stared at me as if I’d just explained the theory of relativity instead of dating.

  “So,” he said slowly, “you… choose someone you like, and instead of declaring intentions or speaking to their parents or arranging futures, you… simply spend time with them?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And if it goes badly?”

  “You stop dating.”

  He looked horrified. “Just like that?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Just like that.”

  He sat back, processing this with the same grim gravity he used for magical politics. “That is very… different.”

  “Bad different?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It seems inefficient.”

  I let out a laugh that was slightly too hysterical. So much for my calm. “It is,” I finally said. “That’s how you figure out who you actually want.”

  His glow flickered to that rose gold I still hadn't asked about. “And you want… me.”

  I felt my own cheeks warm. “For now? Yes. I want you.”

  He looked so ridiculously relieved that I glanced down at my wrists, half expecting the cuffs to be glowing pink or something. They weren’t, but maybe next time. “So… you’re okay with that?” I asked.

  Syrin rubbed his forehead like he was massaging a philosophical crisis. “I think so? I’m not entirely certain. I do not think I understand yet. We are… pretending to court? Is that correct?”

  I grinned. “Less pretending. We are courting, just not the way your world does it.”

  He blinked at me, baffled but trying so hard.

  “It’s like your trial partnership idea,” I continued. “Only without the part where someone signs their life away. We’re together. You can kiss me. Cuddling is definitely on the table. We’re just… trying it out. Seeing if we fit.”

  “Cuddling?” His brow furrowed, and his eyes went silver, circled with bronze. “Is that… a kind of embrace? A ceremonial comfort-hold? A protective posture? I—Trina, I do not know what level of intimacy you believe this is.”

  I giggled. And then, very slowly, giving him plenty of time to panic, I slipped under his arm.

  He went statue-still. Completely rigid. Barely breathing. “Is… is this it?” he whispered. “Is this cuddling? Am I doing it correctly?”

  “It is cuddling,” I said. “You are not doing it correctly. Which means…” I sighed dramatically. “We’ll have to practice. How tragic.”

  Syrin’s glow fluttered like a very dim strobe light. “P-practice,” he repeated faintly. “Right. Of course. That makes sense. I can—uh—adapt. I am adaptable.”

  I nudged him. “Relax, Syrin.”

  “How am I supposed to—”

  “Remember when you were tired, and we walked out of Target with me under your arm? Do that, but with less exhaustion. It’s supposed to feel nice.”

  He looked slightly panicked.

  I giggled again. “We’ll keep practicing when you’re less stressed. You’ll like it. I promise.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Do you like hugging me?”

  Syrin went completely silent, his glow flickering silver. “I—well—yes, but that’s not—embracing is—I mean, it feels—” His arm went stiff. “Are you sure this is allowed? I can’t dishonor you. What if your mother sees? What if—”

  “Shh,” I said, shushing him, as I tightened my arm to squeeze him slightly. “Cuddling is super normal. Very acceptable here, Syrin. Mom won’t care. People do it all the time.”

  “Really?” His voice was slightly suspicious.

  “Yes. Totally, completely, and utterly normal.”

  “It won’t dishonor you?”

  “No. The opposite, actually. It makes it clear you want to protect me.”

  He relaxed so suddenly it was almost funny. “You’re sure? You’re not just saying that for me?”

  I hummed. “That’s much better cuddling, and no. I’m not just saying it. It’s normal when you’re dating. Holding me makes me feel safe. It’s soothing. Definitely protective.”

  His arm tightened a fraction around me, tentative but sure. “Then maybe… maybe this is one of the things I like about Earth.”

  The cuffs pulsed once, warm as Syrin’s breathing steadied against me, and for the first time since the zoo, the room finally felt comfortable.