“Are you telling me off for being distraught?” He asks gently. But he hums lowly, leaning back into the hand in his hair. “Extremely worthy,” he agrees. “I’m lucky to have her. We all are.”

He’s thinking about what this means too, as much as his mind can manage right now, just happy for her hands against him, the flare of magic repairing his skin and muscle. “I am getting tired,” he says. “And you should use it all. We can go buy more together.” She kisses his shoulder and he reaches up to curl his arm around her, his turn to scratch his nails against her hair.