Page 8 of Petrified

“I didn’t choose the ability.” Medusa kneels beside the wrapped fragment and keeps her hands well away from it. “That piece is small. It shouldn’t have enough magic to hold him like this for long.”

I look back at Rowan when his breathing catches and flatten my hand against his chest. “Hey. None of that.”

The gray has reached his shoulder now, crawling across his collarbone in thin veins that thicken as I watch. Amand tears open the top few buttons of Rowan’s shirt so we can see where it’s going, and whatever irritation I’m clinging to evaporates when stone starts spreading down one side of his ribs.

“Rowan, breathe deeper.” My palm stays pressed against his chest while he tries, but the movement underneath it is too shallow. I feel his ribs lift a fraction and stop, and something cold opens in my stomach. “Again. Come on.”

He takes another breath and gets even less this time.

I move in front of him before I can think about it, both hands going to his face while Amand braces Rowan from behind. “No. Absolutely not. You don't get to stop breathing because you touched something I specifically told you not to touch. That is too fucking embarrassing for everybody involved, and I refuse to put that in the report.”

Rowan’s good hand closes around my wrist, but the grip is weaker than it was a minute ago. Medusa is still talking about the fragment eventually losing power, but eventually has become a completely useless concept while the man in front of me is slowly losing the ability to expand his chest.

Amand shifts closer behind him, one arm locked around Rowan’s middle to keep him upright. “His breathing’s getting worse.” Hearing the same fear in Amand’s voice sends mine straight into my throat.

“I know.” I slide one hand from Rowan’s cheek to the side of his neck, searching for warmth, movement, anything that isn’t stone. “Medusa, there has to be something.”

“There isn’t anything I can do from this side of it.” Her frustration finally cracks through the calm. “I can petrify. I can’t reverse another creature’s use of my magic, especially when it’s being carried through a severed snake.”

“Fantastic. Excellent. Love that for us.” The words come out too fast, and I stop because Rowan is trying to breathe again and failing badly enough that nothing about this is funny anymore.

I have no idea what to do. Gerald hasn’t secretly tucked how to unstone your idiot Basilisk mate into one of his lessons, Medusa is apparently only qualified for the first half of this disaster, and whatever Chameleon instinct is supposed to make me adaptable has chosen a spectacular time to remain silent.

Rowan’s eyes find mine when another shallow breath catches in his chest. I stop looking for an answer and kiss him.

There isn’t any thought behind it beyond the fact that he’s still here and I need him to stay that way. His mouth is warm against mine, his hand still wrapped around my wrist, and I press closer like I can somehow force my own breath into him if I try hard enough. The second our magic collides, something inside me jerks hard enough that I pull back.

A sharp crack splits through the stone along Rowan’s jaw.

For one second, none of us moves.

Then Amand’s hand tightens around Rowan’s shoulder. “Lev. Again.”

“I fucking saw it.” I grab Rowan’s face and kiss him a second time before anybody has a chance to explain something I’m already doing.

This time I’m paying attention. Rowan’s Basilisk magic surges first, hot and heavy through the bond, and mine catches on it with a strange pulling sensation under my skin. The petrification around his mouth fractures with another sharp crack, stone flaking away from his lower lip as Rowan drags in a ragged breath.

Relief hits so violently that my knees nearly give out.

Rowan grimaces against my mouth. “You bit me.”

I stare at him, half his face still stone and one side of his body basically decorative. “You were turning into a fucking statue and came back complaining.” The laugh that breaks out of me is shaky enough that I barely recognize it.

Amand exhales hard behind him and drops his forehead briefly against Rowan’s shoulder before lifting it again. “His chest moved more that time. Keep going.”

“That is the first useful suggestion anybody has made in the last five minutes.” I kiss Rowan again, slower because now I’m trying to feel what happens instead of simply panicking into his mouth.

The reaction spreads through the bond differently this time. Rowan’s magic rolls into mine, Amand’s brushes against both of us from where he’s holding Rowan upright, and something in my Chameleon magic seems to grab at the petrification instead of simply reacting to it. A crack runs across Rowan’s shoulder, then another down his arm, and his fingers jerk hard enough that he nearly catches me in the chin.

I pull back and catch his wrist before he can accidentally punch me. “Good. One arm. Apparently we’re putting you back together in whatever order the universe finds funniest.”

His newly freed fingers curl into the front of my jacket. One leg is still rigid, half his torso is gray, and his mouth is completely normal now, which feels unfair considering he immediately tries to use it.

“Could be worse,” Rowan says, testing the arm with a slow flex.

“You have one useful leg and approximately sixty percent of a functioning body.” I refuse to give him anything else and put my palm back over his chest instead. This time a full breath lifts beneath it, solid enough that some of the pressure behind my ribs finally loosens.

Medusa crouches beside the wrapped fragment and watches the twitching slow beneath the rag. “It’s fading now. Whatever connection he forced into this piece is weakening.”