“Val?” Arius asked, sweet with concern. Slowly, he picked his weight off of her and leaned to the side. “Leviathan isn’t affecting you adversely is it?”

“No,” she said, swiping at her teary eyes. “I mean, I’m a bit overwhelmed, but I’m fine. Did you want to say something?”

His gaze cast downward to the colossus of a fish. “It isn’t important anymore. Let’s just wait for Tavras to get us out of here, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, Arius,” she cooed as kindly as she could. The tremble in her voice did not sound particularly reassuring.

Dense as she was, even Val realized what he was trying to do. This whole fiasco made him try to withdraw from her, so she would need to redress the situation as best she could.

“I want to hear what you have to say.” Val looked on at him with wide eyes to signify her attention. Trapped in Leviathan’s Cradle like this, they had all the time in the world for him to speak—or at least until Tavras came.

Still, Arius opted to stay quiet for a while longer. The tension in his brow gave the impression that he struggled to find the words. “Would you really rather kill yourself than talk to me?”

Her jaw dropped, half exasperated that he wanted to go there instead of apologizing like he had said earlier. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“Right, you were just trying to get me killed.” With his eyes still trained on Leviathan, even Arius must feel small in the face of a legendary creature beholden of such power that it belonged to an entirely different plane all together.

“No!” she objected at once. “I wasn’t trying to kill you either.”

“Enlighten me then,” his jaded voice said. “What were you trying to do?”

“I already said it. I just wanted you to leave me alone,” she muttered.

“Yes, but killing me seems a little extreme to that end, don’t you think?”

Val wanted to shout at him. Able to read her intentions, Arius should already know that had not been her purpose. Nevertheless, he remained stuck on the topic of his own mortality.

To cover for herself, she blurted out, “This was Tavras’s idea!”

“Ah, yes, of course it was. Do you know what Tavras wants to do to me?”

A tight swallow slid down Val’s throat. “I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not right! Tavras wouldn’t kill you.”

“Oh, and why not?” His sarcasm was laden thicker than the murky haze that swathed Leviathan’s Cradle. “Did Tavras tell you that he wouldn’t?”

“Yes,” she said plainly.

“It’s always smart to believe everything people say on face value, especially a vengeful god like the Sea Itself.”

Choosing to ignore that remark, Val continued, “Plus, Evalaite just spent nearly the last century manipulating your memories. Whatever she has planned for you, Tavras did not want to mess that up.”

Arius raised his brow and looked back out to the dark waters. “Fair.” His arms crossed tersely over his chest, and from there, he reclined back against the bubble.

A stifling silence divided them—if the environment of Leviathan’s Cradle could be considered silent. The sleeping sea monster roared with each snore, and their ears were filled with the vibration.

“Arius,” Val tried again, “what did you really want to talk about?” Unable to look at him while she made her next move, she reached out to touch the back of his hand.

Despite Arius’s ability which provided the heat to maintain their lives, his hand felt slightly more chilled than her own. The shocking simplicity of his skin’s capacity to feel cold made Val give pause.

Rather than pulling away from her touch, Arius twisted his wrist so that their palms could press together and fingers wrap around each other’s hands. He offered a light squeeze, more so for his own reassurance than hers, she suspected.

The two of them were really holding hands at present.

Frenzied thoughts swirled around her mind. Gods, she was holding the hand of a god. Not just any god, she was holding the hand of Arius the Ravager—her supposed soulmate and the man who had put a knife to her neck just days ago.

He sighed and began to speak. “Val.” His gaze lifted in conjunction with hers.

Wide eyed, she stared into Arius’s mournful gaze.

“I’m terribly sorry for threatening you like I did. I shouldn’t have done that and want to make it up to you now. Can you forgive me? Give me a second chance.” Each word was carefully placed, as if his apology had been rehearsed.

For some reason, the memory of the banter between Arius and Tavras after their epic fight came to mind. Upon giving his victory speech, Tavras had asked Arius if he had practiced that on notecards. To that accusation, Arius had said yes.

A tiny smile peeled to Val’s lips so that she needed to keep herself from snickering in front of Arius who sat there, attentive and nervous.

If Arius had the same tendencies now as he did back then, he probably did practice his apology. When his social awkwardness shined through in an innocent way like this, Val could not help but find him endearing.

This did not mean that she could forgive him instantaneously. “Um, I guess my biggest concern would be about the future…. You wouldn’t make a habit of this, would you?”

“No,” Arius said at once. The commitment to that end was evident in his intense eyes, but it faltered just as quickly. His next words rushed out quicker.

“I mean, I certainly would try not to repeat this mistake ever again. I wouldn’t want to be a toxic soulmate to you. Then again, I never intended to do what I did in the first place…. If you had asked me a few days ago if I would ever lash out like that, I would’ve said no—”

At least Arius had not tried to hurt her, though Val was not sure whether that reassured her or not. It opened a new question.

Which was worse: an unstable, well-intentioned person or an intentional, malicious one? Pondering that for a moment, she decidedly came to the conclusion that she preferred Arius as he was—caring but flawed.

“Arius,” she said softly to call him back from his ramble.

As if only just realizing the uncertainty that he had provided, his fingers gripped tighter around her hand. “I-I’m sorry. That’s not very promising. I’ll figure this out and it’ll never happen again. That, I promise.”

Val could feel her brow twist up in a smidgen of sympathy. “Arius,” she repeated. So many times, she called his name in this conversation, and each time, her voice seemed to help him relax a little. “It’s fine. I appreciate the honesty at least. Clearly, this is a bigger issue than a simple promise will fix.”

Again, Arius clutched at her hand. By the tension in his fingers, he seemed incredibly desperate for them to stay like this. He had good reason to fear that she would draw away again, given how they had traveled halfway across the planet and onto a different plane over the course of their disagreement.

As carefully as she could, Val said with finality, “I think this would be better for you to sort through by yourself for a time.”

“No, that’s not… right.” His pupils darted around in search of some mistake or misunderstanding. “You do believe me when I say that we are soulmates, right Val?”

She looked sidelong out of the corners of her eyes. Val tried to assess how best to let Arius down gently, even after he had come all the way to Leviathan’s Cradle for her.