I SAT ON ONE SIDE OF ARCUS’S BED, and Brother Thistle sat on the other. A fire had been lit, though somehow the heat didn’t penetrate the massive space. Plush royal-blue curtains covered wide windows that looked down on the castle courtyard. All the luxuries of the king’s bedchamber—carved wardrobes, thick rugs, wingback chairs with delicately curved legs—were painted a soft yellow by the glow from candelabras.

I watched helplessly as the healers, a man and woman with similarly long, serious faces, checked the king’s pulse and washed and dressed his wound.

It was deathly quiet after they left. Arcus lay in the bed, silent and still, his skin almost as bleached as the sheets, the covers pulled over his bare chest up to his bandaged shoulder. When I touched his cheek, he was frighteningly cold, even for him.

“Will he recover?” I asked, as if the monk, with all his scholarly knowledge, would know the answer to that question, too.

“He must.” Brother Thistle’s expression was openly worried as he stared at Arcus. He loved him like a son, that was clear. Surely we would make Arcus better with the force of our affection alone.

“Where were you when it happened?” I asked.

“I left the ball early and returned to the library.” He offered it like a confession.

“You couldn’t have known. This is more my fault than anyone else’s.” A wave of guilt swept through me. The so-called Blue Legion, apparently a network of bitter nobles, all hated the king because of me. Or at least what they perceived as my influence over him.

“The timing was deliberate,” I observed.

“Of course.”

“And the targets were anyone who supported the peace accords.”

“That much is clear.”

“Who is behind it?”

He rubbed his temples. “I fear there are many more suspects than we’d first thought.”

I told him what Lady Blanding had said, her veiled threats that she had decided to leave us to our fate, and my suspicion that she’d known about the coming attack.

He didn’t look surprised. “Arcus has promised to give the Aris Plains back to the farmers of the southern provinces once he assures peace. I was surprised that he didn’t see more direct opposition from his court, many of whom were given that land by Akur and Rasmus. Now we know why.”

I feathered my fingertips over Arcus’s bandage, the cold seeping into my skin. I sent a pulse of gentle heat into his shoulder near the wound, hoping it would help the healing process somehow, even just a little. “What happens now?”

“I truly do not know. His court is divided. He has friends—most notably Lord and Lady Manus and Lord Pell—but they alone don’t have the land or connections to have great influence. And many who do, like my cousin, Lord Tryllan, choose neutrality over risk. They wait to see which way the wind blows before taking sides.” He paused. “At any rate, we must form a new plan. No one will sign accords with a monarch whose reign appears so tenuous.”

“His court is divided because of me,” I said dully. “His reign is tenuous because of me. What can I do to help him?”

“You were with the dignitary from the southern provinces when you were attacked, were you not?”

If I could trust anyone, it was Brother Thistle. I told him everything.

“Remarkable! What would the Sudesians want with you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well,” he mused, “if they meant you harm, the Fireblood could have just killed you himself. Perhaps you are celebrated as a hero for destroying the frost throne and helping overthrow King Rasmus.”

“So I should trust him? Should I go if it will help Arcus achieve peace?”

Emotions chased one another across his face: curiosity, doubt, uncertainty, excitement. He shook his head. “We cannot act rashly.”

“But we do need to act.”

“More than you know.” His tone was resigned.

“Why? What don’t I know?”

There was something overly careful in his expression, as if he were preparing for my reaction. “Murders have risen tenfold in the villages within a few days’ ride from here. In each case, the murderer has died of seemingly natural causes shortly after, but the blood found in the body is always black. I believe the Minax is possessing people, moving from village to village.”

The pain of betrayal sent wild heat through my chest. “How could you not tell me before now?” I had a terrible thought. “Did you and Arcus not trust me? Did you think I would… that I was so corrupted by the Minax that you weren’t sure whose side I was on?”

After all, the Minax’s possession had been like an opiate, erasing all worry and fear. Brother Thistle knew how I’d struggled not to let the creature consume me.

“Of course not! Arcus insisted you were worried enough already without the burden of more guilt. He said you would blame yourself for releasing the Minax.”

He was right about that.

“So it’s out there possessing people.” I clenched my hands together. “Making them kill each other and feeding on the grief that follows.”

“Perhaps, but I think its intentions go beyond that. Recently, our Frostblood general in the Aris Plains ordered his soldiers to attack a peaceful province with no command from the king nor a strategic goal in mind. They simply began cutting people down. I do not think it a coincidence that peace is always out of reach; the Minax thrives on war. If this goes on, we will continue to decimate one another with no end in sight. Arcus has sent his best trackers after it, but what would we do if we catch the person who is possessed? If we imprison or kill its host, the creature will merely choose another.”

It seemed hopeless. Too many factors we didn’t understand or couldn’t control. “But we can’t do nothing. The Minax is out there… slaughtering people, turning them against each other. Innocent lives.” I gasped, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

Brother Thistle spoke softly, calming me. “You are right. We cannot afford to ignore this opportunity or the knowledge we now possess on how to kill the Minax. Do you remember the book on the thrones I mentioned? The one that is no longer in our library?”

I nodded. “How could I forget Pernillius?”

“There were two copies, one for each Frostblood and Fireblood monarch. One for each throne. The secrets in it were considered dangerous, so it was kept under lock and key in King Akur’s time. I”—he cleared his throat—“managed to obtain it once… .”

“You mean you stole it?” I grinned in admiration.

“Yes, well, borrowed is a more accurate word. I held the book only briefly, before Lord Ustathius discovered I had it and took it back. That book”—he turned and peered at the shelves as if he might summon the volume with the power of his will—“is where I first learned of the prophecy of the Child of Light and the destruction of the throne. I am certain that it contained knowledge of the destruction of the Minax. Since the day I returned here after King Rasmus banished me, I have scoured the castle to no avail.”

“Maybe Lord Ustathius still has it,” I suggested.

“I questioned him. He says he barely remembers the book, although he does enjoy thwarting me. We had a sort of informal competition for the king’s ear many years ago.”

“So another copy lies in Sudesia,” I said, drawing his attention back to the point at hand. “But on which island?” I’d seen the maps showing islands clustered together like pieces of broken slate tossed to the ground.

“I assume it is kept in the capital, Sere, where the queen lives, as well as being home to the school for Fireblood masters.”

It was the closest thing to hope I’d felt in weeks. “But… Arcus will never agree to my traveling to Sudesia. He’ll say it’s too dangerous. And even if he would allow it, you know he would send warships and soldiers to accompany me. We might as well declare war.”

“We need that book,” he said. “I’m convinced it has the answers we seek.”

I saw my own certainty reflected in Brother Thistle’s eyes. There was no alternative: I had to go. But we couldn’t tell Arcus.

Even as worry and guilt churned in my stomach, I couldn’t help a surge of excitement at the prospect of boarding that ship. Sudesia was a land of warmth and fire. I had longed to know where Firebloods came from, the customs and practices of a place that seemed mysterious to me now but was home to my ancestors. Home to my mother before she’d come to Tempesia, though she’d never told me why. Maybe in returning to her homeland I would find that part of myself that echoed with empty longing since the day she died. “When I get there,” I said, “if I get there safely… where should I start?”

“There is a library in the school for Fireblood masters that is second to none, and older even than ours. If you can find the ancient text, or perhaps a scholar with an obsession for esoteric knowledge, there lies our last hope of finding out how to destroy the Minax.”

“Then you should come with me. No scholar is more obsessed than you.”

“I highly doubt your Sudesian friend would allow me on his ship.”

“Why shouldn’t he? After all, if it weren’t for you, King Rasmus would still be on the throne.”

“If it weren’t for us.” He reached out and patted Arcus’s hand where it lay limply on the covers. “Whatever our mistakes, we did accomplish that.”

I covered Arcus’s other hand with mine. We sat like that quietly for a minute, the three of us connected. We’d been through so much together. I didn’t want to leave them. The thought alone made it feel like a steel clamp was squeezing my heart.

“But it does not matter that I helped you,” he continued. “The Sudesians would see me only as a Frostblood. An enemy.”

“Then I’ll go alone,” I said softly. “But how can I leave Arcus like this, wondering if he’ll recover? He’ll worry about me.”

“I will tell him our plans as soon as you’re gone. He will be angry, but he will forgive me. Try to send us a message when you arrive in Sudesia. Perhaps if the southern provinces are aiding the passage of Sudesian ships, they would also be willing to let messages pass.”

“I will. And I’ll find the book.”

“Do not tell the queen your intentions. If she is under the influence of the curse, she will protect the throne at all costs. Your best chance is to ingratiate yourself with her and the Fireblood masters. If they see you as some sort of hero for destroying the frost throne, you might be welcomed.”

I noticed a thin coating of frost covering the monk’s chair, a sign he was losing control of his gift and more anxious than he let on. And no wonder. There were so many hopeful assumptions in our plan. And so much on my shoulders. It was dizzying. For a minute I just gripped my hands together and breathed deeply until I regained my composure.

“So if you think about it,” I said, “not only will I be searching for the book, I’ll be trying to mend ties between our kingdoms, which is just what Arcus wants. In that light, I could be called a sort of unofficial ambassador on behalf of the Frostbloods.” I caught his eye and we both smiled at the irony, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Really, Brother Thistle, who would have thought?”

“As much as I cringe to think of sending you on a mission of diplomacy,” he said, “you are our best hope for peace. And our only hope for destroying the Minax.”

We discussed the plan until my eyes grew heavy, and Brother Thistle left. Arcus’s bed was so large that I was able to curl up at the foot quite comfortably. Exhaustion took over and I drifted off immediately, opening my eyes only when I heard Arcus asking for water. Dawn seeped through the crack between the curtains, laying a yellow stripe across the floor. I hopped from the bed, shivering in the morning chill. I poured water from a crystal pitcher and held the cup to Arcus’s blue-tinged lips.

He struggled to lift his head. I slid one hand behind to help him, my heart contracting at the sign of weakness. Even in the battle for the throne, he hadn’t been hurt like this.

He took a sip and nodded, settling against the pillow as I put the glass back on the table.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said, his voice rough from sleep.

I smiled, light-headed with relief that he was awake and lucid. “At your service.”

“I need to be ill more often,” he said. “My own personal—”

“If you say ‘servant,’ I’m leaving.” The truth was, he could say whatever he wanted and I wasn’t going anywhere. I would savor these last few moments with him.

One eyebrow rose. “I was going to say ‘healer.’”

“Ah.” I smoothed my fingertips over his forehead and he closed his eyes with a sigh. “That’s acceptable. Although I have no idea what to do other than keep you in bed.”

A mischievous grin spread across his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “And don’t say anything about how I’m to keep you in bed. You already embarrassed me in front of Lord Manus. I’ve never seen a Frostblood blush so much.”

He huffed a small laugh. “I’m sorry I don’t remember it, then.” He glanced around. “Was Brother Thistle here last night? I have a vague memory of hearing your voices.”

A pulse of alarm jolted through me. How much did he hear?

“We were discussing who could be behind the attack. What to do next.”

His eyes fluttered closed. “And? What did you come up with?”

“Nothing definite as yet.” I hated to lie to him. It was harder than I thought it would be. I continued stroking his forehead, then trailed the back of my hand against his cheek.

“Ouch.” His hand came up to grab mine. I blinked in surprise to see the ring Kai had given me on my finger. I’d forgotten all about it.

“Where did you get that?” he asked. “This filigree is so intricate. It reminds me…” His brows pulled together. “It reminds me of a ring that has been passed down in my family. It was from Sudesia. But it has a sapphire. And thicker here.”

“Oh?” I didn’t know what else to say. If I told him about the ring, I’d have to tell him everything.

“Ruby.” His voice was hard. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You’ve been keeping things from me, too,” I countered quickly, pulling my hand from his. “The Minax? The murders?”

A flicker of guilt passed over his expression. “That’s different. I was trying to protect you.”

“Well, so am I.”

His glance fell back to my hand. “Where did you get the ring?”

I sighed, resigned. “From the southern dignitary.” I paused. “Only he wasn’t who he claimed to be. As it turned out, he was a Sudesian.”

His eyes pierced mine. “How the blazes did he get into the ball?”

I fiddled with the ring, watching as it caught a band of sunlight. “I don’t know. He must have had someone vouch for his false identity. Anyway, he came to the ball to… to see me.”

“To see you?” His volume rose with each word. “What for?”

I told him what Kai had said, leaving out the part about the people of the southern provinces helping him through the Frostblood blockade. If Arcus knew that, he’d be forced to deal with it.

“So this stranger claims to be a Sudesian and he’s offering you passage across the sea.” He was angry. “Why? What do they want with you?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps it’s an interest in peace, which he thinks could be achieved through someone like me negotiating. But I didn’t get to ask further questions. After the attack, he ran off.”

“Not exactly the mark of an honest man. He could have made the offer directly to me.”

“He doesn’t trust you. Surely that’s not a surprise. All the Sudesians know is what your brother has done to the Firebloods in Tempesia. And we’d just been attacked.”

“For all we know, he was in on the attack.”

I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Kai fought the attackers off with me.”

“Kai,” he spat. “You’re on a first-name basis with him?”

I stiffened. “When Drake had a knife to my throat, Kai saved my life.”

Arcus’s face lost color. “Drake had a knife to your throat?”

I pulled back the collar of my robe to uncover the tender skin Drake had scored with his blade. “I would have died if not for Kai.”

He swallowed and was silent for a minute. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes showed fury and fear as they rested on the wound. Then his nostrils flared. “You wouldn’t have been out there in the first place if not for him. What was he planning? To kidnap you? Who knows what would have happened if—”

“If those handy Frostblood assassins hadn’t come along? Are you even hearing yourself? This could be the only way to repair ties with the southern provinces and find a way to destroy the Minax. Which, in case you’ve forgotten, is turning people into murderers. What if it’s planning to come back for me as it promised?” I gestured to my heart-shaped scar. “What if the visions, which are only getting worse, are a precursor to possession? What if I become the next murderer? I can’t just sit around waiting and wondering, not if I can do something to protect the kingdom, to protect you.” I was half-breathless after rushing to say my piece. I took a steadying breath. “Brother Thistle knows of a book—”

He waved a hand. “I know about his blasted book. Don’t you think I’ve been searching for it, too?”

“Then you know how important it is. Perhaps, if I can somehow learn how to bring the fire Minax back to Tempesia, we can find a way to destroy both creatures at once! So, fine, I’ll admit that we don’t know much about Kai. But considering what’s at stake, and what we stand to gain, it’s worth the risk.”

“‘Worth the risk.’ As if it takes much of anything for you to put yourself in danger.”

“It’s not safe here, either.”

“It will be,” he swore. “I almost lost you! I’ll be a damn sight more careful whom I trust now. And by the way, the Blue Legion, or whatever they call themselves, tried to kill me, too. Are you suggesting I also run to Sudesia?”

“You’re so infuriating! Think, Arcus. Why do these nobles want to kill you?”

“Because I’m making changes. Because they’ll lose the land my brother gave them. And because they want to hold on to old prejudices and hatred.”

“Yes. Precisely. Rasmus spent two years twisting everyone and everything to suit him, no doubt with the Minax influencing every thought and decision. And now you’re trying to untwist it all in a matter of weeks. It’s one thing to get treaties signed, but it’s another to… to parade a Fireblood in front of them all.”

Arcus’s eyes flared, then narrowed. “Be very, very careful, Ruby. If you’re suggesting that I’m using you as some sort of… taunt…” His eyes burned with cold fire. “To imply that it’s wrong for you to be here because of your heritage…” He shook his head. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“And you’re a fool if you don’t see what you’re doing! My presence here is hurting you. And I can’t stand it.”

His eyes were made of cracked ice, his cheekbones and jaw carved from stone, the scars standing out as if a sculptor hadn’t sanded the edges down yet. “I’ll die before I send you away to satisfy their hateful expectations.”

The vow sent a quiver of something painfully sweet through my nerves. “But, Arcus, if you die, what do you think will happen to me?”

His eyes closed slowly and stayed closed. He looked almost defeated, so unlike his usual self, and I remembered that his body was fighting a battle to heal.

“I’m sorry,” I said, slumping onto the edge of the bed. “You’re so tired. You’re injured and you should be resting. We can talk about this later.”

He shook his head, eyes still closed. “I can’t trust you not to leave.”

I hopped up again. “You’re being so obstinate! This could be the only way to save us. I came here alone and fought in the arena and killed and almost died several times over. Now I’m supposed to live wrapped in lamb’s wool so I don’t get a scratch?” I realized I was trembling and my hands were balled into fists. If there was one thing I couldn’t bear, it was confinement. I wouldn’t let anyone stop me—not even Arcus. “No. I’m going. I’m going.”

His eyes snapped open. “No, Ruby. You’re not.”

“What are you going to do?” My voice rose to a shout. “Lock me in your keep?”

“If I have to!”

“Well, you will have to! Just like your brother did! And I swear, I’ll never speak to you again. I vow it on my mother’s life.”

The words echoed and hung in the air like knives about to fall. My stomach lurched with a fear I hadn’t felt for weeks. Regret sank heavy, sharp talons into my chest. Had I just said that? How had we gotten here?

“Go, then,” said Arcus, his voice a bitter thread of sound. If the silence weren’t so absolute, I wouldn’t have heard him at all. The air reverberated with hurt. “Go to your people. Risk your life, if it seems that important to you. I won’t be accused of keeping you somewhere you don’t want to be. You’d only come to resent me. I refuse to be the source of your unhappiness.”

“It’s important to you, too,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m doing this for you.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak for several moments. “Tell yourself that, if you must. Chase things you’ll never find. Trust the lies of a stranger.”

“I don’t think he’s lying, Arcus. I don’t.”

“I can’t talk about this anymore. Just go.”

Suddenly, tears were behind my eyes and I couldn’t breathe. “I can’t leave you like this, when you’re so weak. Let me stay until you fall asleep again, at least.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll send for Brother Thistle.”

He scoffed. “I don’t want to see him, either.”

I could feel the change in him, the determination to shut us out. I told myself his anger was rooted in hurt, his cold rejection based in fear. Arcus had learned that caring led to pain. His mother had been killed when he was young. He’d loved his younger brother, Rasmus, but was forced to lead a rebellion against him to save the kingdom from the cursed king. When we’d lived at the abbey, he’d pushed me away—so fearful of his own feelings for me that he’d denied them for as long as he could. He was trying to protect himself by building walls, layer after layer of solid ice to keep out anyone who could disappoint or hurt him. If he kept it up, he would only succeed in isolating himself from the people who cared about him.

“Don’t say that,” I said softly. “You’re like a son to him. He just wants to help. Don’t punish him for agreeing with me.”

“He can accompany you on your way to the port and then go to the abbey from there. I have enough enemies here.”

Brother Thistle was hurt but resigned at being expelled from the castle like an unwelcome guest. He spent the days packing, lost in his private worries.

Marella, on the other hand, once I admitted my plans, pestered me for details until I told her how I intended to find Kai in Tevros and sail from there. She insisted on helping me pack, ignoring my protests that I didn’t plan to bring more than a satchel I could carry easily. As she looked critically through my wardrobe, she offered advice about the route to Tevros and told cautionary tales about the dangers of trusting strangers, mostly involving loss of coin and life. I finally asked bluntly if she thought I was foolish to go.

Her violet eyes stayed steady on mine as she contemplated the question. My stomach tied itself in knots as I waited. Her opinion, I realized, had become important to me.

Finally, she looked away, stuffing a ball gown into my travel chest. I doubted I’d have any use for such clothing, but since I wasn’t bringing the chest, I didn’t bother to say anything. She seemed to enjoy packing, and I was touched that she wanted to help.

“Whether it’s wise is irrelevant,” she said, carefully folding a chemise I also wouldn’t be bringing. She looked serious, almost melancholy. Very unlike her. Before I could ask what was wrong, she shrugged and grabbed another gown. “Sometimes there is no choice. We all have our role to play and this is yours. You must go.”

I wished I could feel as certain as she sounded.

I tried two or three times a day to see Arcus, but the guards turned me away every time. Finally, on the third day, I threatened to burn the door down, speaking loudly enough for half the castle to hear.

Arcus’s voice came through the thick oak. “Let her in.”

I entered his room, all my bluster leaving as soon as I set foot on the plush carpet. The guard shut the door behind me.

Arcus sat propped up on his pillows and his face held more color, but the look in his eyes was blank. Empty. Focused on something behind me, as if I was a stranger who happened to walk between him and the person he was talking to. Apparently he’d spent the last three days reinforcing those walls.

I stood awkwardly for a moment. “How is your wound?”

“They say it’s healing well.”

I nodded. Everything about his voice, posture, and expression told me that I wasn’t welcome. That he couldn’t bear to look at me.

I forced the words out, one by one. “I came to say good-bye.”

His eyes slid closed. If it weren’t for the humming tension in every line of his body, I’d think he’d just fallen asleep.

“This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” I whispered, trembling.

He shrugged his good shoulder, an elongated motion that spoke of indifference.

Heat flared, instant and sharp, and it was a relief. I preferred anger to that killing uncertainty. “So you’re not even speaking to me?”

His eyes met mine with an intense look that was both confused and angry. “I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. Why trust that stranger? You say you’re doing this for the kingdom and for me, but admit it, Ruby—you’re really doing this for you. You want to go to Sudesia, and you want to do it on your terms. This whole thing is damn selfish.” The words were equivalent to a shove in the chest.

“You’re being unreasonable,” I argued. “You, who prides himself on reason.”

“Except I’ve never been reasonable when it comes to you.”

The bald statement brought me up short. If he’d said that to me a few days ago, I would have been delighted, buoyed at the thought that he felt too much for me to be logical. But now the words sliced my rib cage like a scythe. This might be the last time he admitted to feeling anything for me more than anger. Or worse, indifference.

In our shared history, I’d never truly let Arcus see how much I needed him. And he, in perfect pantomime, did the same. No one wanted to be the first to admit we felt more than we could handle.

And now, I was walking away.

A stabbing pain radiated from my heart, which seemed confused about whether to pour out heat or to stop beating altogether.

Was he right? Was I just looking for excuses to go to Sudesia?

No. I might be impulsive, but Brother Thistle wasn’t. He had no agenda other than helping Arcus, helping Tempesia. He also cared about me and wouldn’t risk my safety if he didn’t think it absolutely necessary. We needed to take this chance.

And I had to try to pull Arcus back to me before I left.

I moved so close that my legs pressed against the side of the mattress. My hand came to rest on his arm, its muscles rigid with tension. The temperature dropped, giving him away. He wasn’t as calm as he wanted me to believe. There were cracks in his defenses.

As I bent toward him, he turned his head away and my lips landed on his cheek. The world narrowed to the small patch of his skin where two opposing temperatures struggled for dominance: the insistent heat of my lips, the defiant cold of his cheek. Neither yielding. Neither moving. The breath in my lungs cooled.

The realization hit me like shards of broken glass: He was not going to acknowledge my caress. He was going to pretend I wasn’t even here, denouncing me completely with his perfect stillness. It felt as if I were being slowly ripped in half. He was forcing me into a choice I’d had no intention of making: To save the kingdom, I would lose him.

My heart skipped a beat when he finally moved. His hand came out to cover mine, his skin colder than my northern village in the dead of winter. Relief flooded me at his touch, until I realized he was only peeling my fingers from his arm, one by one.

“Good-bye, Ruby.” His voice was as empty as the abandoned arena, echoing with the ghosts of past pain.

The shock somehow released me from my paralysis. I straightened.

“Good-bye,” I echoed, my blood heating with anger. His skin was marble, his eyes so pale they were light gray, almost colorless. I know you care about me! I wanted to shout. Don’t push me away!

I needed to move. I focused on the muscles in my legs, telling them to turn me in the direction of the door. Ordering my feet to take me away. Now, quick, before you scream and rage and make a fool of yourself.

Then, just as I started to turn, his face twisted, as if something inside him had suddenly broken. His hands gripped my wrists and pulled, but I was already pitching forward, my hand clutching his shoulder. Our lips met with jarring force, the reverberation landing in my jaw. And then the angle righted itself as he tilted his head to welcome the invasion.

He was so cold against my tongue that I shivered. He tasted like a winter morning, of icy water and mint tea. I drank him in with thirsty sips and he nipped my lower lip in punishment and reward.

When his fingers dove into the hair at the nape of my neck and his open mouth slid to the sensitive spot under my ear, I forgot everything except need, scrambling to throw my leg over his hips so I straddled him, my chest leaning against his. It took a moment for me to recognize his sharp inhalation as pain. He was injured and I was hurting him.

I subsided instantly, crumpling next to him like a falling scarf, settling slowly into stillness. His hand grabbed mine and drew it to his mouth, continuing the kiss in a safer, softer way. His lips rested against my wrist, where the red vein still throbbed with passion, soothing the skin while the pulse beneath slowly returned to normal.

We stayed that way for a long time, silent except for breathing that went from ragged to even. I shifted so that my head was pillowed on a spot low enough on his chest that I didn’t touch the bandage. His hand settled on my head, stroking my hair. My scalp tingled with pleasure. After a while, the silence thickened.

“Why do we always go back to hurting each other?” I asked in a small voice, hoping not to destroy the fragile truce.

He paused long enough that I started to worry. “Because we feel too much,” he said roughly.

I nodded, my head still tucked against his torso, relieved and full of understanding. “You hate it. Feeling.”

“No, I don’t,” he denied instantly. “I hate… being at the mercy of it. I hate when I can’t tuck the feelings away because they’re too strong.”

I lifted his hand and played with his fingers, thinking how beautiful they were—strong and capable and dusted with fine brown hairs.

“You’d be better off with someone who”—I swallowed—“didn’t make you feel so out of control.”

“Maybe,” he said after a moment, making my heart stutter sickly. “But I wouldn’t choose that.”

I said very quietly, “You might have to choose that.”

He had a duty to his people, to his court, but I wanted to hear him say that he didn’t want the perfectly bred Marella, that he’d rather have me. But that was unfair to ask of him now, when I was about to leave. I closed my eyes tight, tight, and tried not to think about how much easier that choice could be in my absence.

“We have to let each other go a little,” he said very softly, as if reading my mind, confirming my worst fears. “We both know that the future… We might have choices ahead that we can’t predict now. We have to allow each other to make them without blame.”

He said it so gently, tenderly. Somehow that made it hurt more. Why did he have to be so reasonable now, when I’d finally surrendered to feeling? I couldn’t hold back the tears, my body shaking a little as I tried to quell them.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he said unevenly, “but I’ll go mad if I try to keep holding on. You are flame, Ruby, and fire can either be free or it will be smothered. The last thing I want…” His voice broke, and the sound was like a kick in my chest. “The last thing I want is to smother you.”

I sat up and turned away fully so that my back faced him, not as a dismissal, but because I needed the space. I didn’t want to think about how right he was. His hand came out and smoothed my back, first pushing my hair out of the way, then touching the base of my neck, his fingers lingering over each vertebra on the way down.

I turned back to him and grabbed his hand, pressing my lips to it, then resting my forehead against his knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He twisted so that his fingers touched my cheek and my lips rested in his palm. After a minute, he took a shuddering breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said softly, “but I’m so tired. I just… I can’t bear much more of this.”

I knew he was injured and sore and exhausted, but it still hurt to be pushed away. I had to be mature enough to leave him. To stop begging him, in all my subtle and not-so-subtle ways, to give me reasons to stay. If I backed down now, I doomed us all with my cowardice.

But I couldn’t help asking quietly, “If—when I come back, will there be any place for me? With you?”

His voice was broken granite. “Always.”

Emotion filled my chest, so much I ached with it. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

So I gave his hand a harsh, almost bruising kiss, stood, turned, and walked to the door. I didn’t let myself look back. I knew I wasn’t that strong. It felt like lead weights had been tied to my feet. I stepped from the room, shut the door, and moved carefully down the hallway, feeling as if I’d left behind some vital and irreplaceable part of myself in the room.

The sky was gray outside the windows. The light that flowed into the hallway was gray. Even my skin, when I looked at my hand that still wore the ring, looked a sickly gray.

But the ruby in the ring shone as if the very heart of fire lived inside of it. And my heart gave a struggling little pulse of heat in reply.