Gilgamesh seethes. He grits his teeth and grinds and makes sure Dorian hears every bit of that, too, but he's forced into a truce. Bickering back and forth inside their heads would only remain that way for so long. At this rate, they'd make a mess all over again.

Hermione will recover, this much he's certain of, as a magus would always return to themselves with enough rest. He leaps to follow along as the inhuman creature he is at his core, inhumanly strong and inhumanly swift, turning to regard Dorian one last time through narrowed eyes.

"If you call for me, I will come."

He says it to her but stares at him the whole time that a much clearer message is sent, without words, without thoughts. Gilgamesh is angry, and Dorian has not heard the last of this matter from him.

As their flight takes them out of the forest and away from suitable brush, Gilgamesh assumes the form of a golden wisp and accompanies them the rest of the way. He suspects Dorian will lock himself in with her, whisper lies and lace her with a different sort of venom, but he'll wait for his chance.

For now, he leaves them to each other, his Marchioness and his Master.