Arwyn shivered in her bed. She pulled the coverlet tighter around her, hoping to chase the chill away. She couldn’t find warmth. She needed a fire. Yes, a warm, toasty fire was what she needed. Wrapping the coverlet around her, she exited her chamber and ambled down the barely lit halls toward the communal room where a fire burned low in the hearth.

No one was about, everyone abed. Except for her, of course. She couldn’t sleep. The one time she had drifted off, she had awoken drenched in sweat and tears, reliving all that she had seen that fateful night. She had not dared to try for sleep again. Not so soon after. Not yet.

She curled up into the chair closest to the fire, bare feet tucked neatly underneath her chemise, and she concentrated on the tepid warmth the fire provided. Still, she shivered.

“You should eat something,” Zeph said, his voice as cool as water over lichen-covered rocks.

Arwyn’s heart lurched at seeing him standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of thick stew. Her stomach rolled, nerves most likely the cause. “I’m not hungry,” she said, having lost her appetite days ago.

He walked toward her, stopping directly in front of her. His eyes were unreadable. “You should eat something anyway.” He extended the bowl to her, expecting her to take it, and for a minute, all she could do was stare at it, the steam licking over the top in an elegant dance. It was warm, and her hands were cold, so she reached for it, instantly appreciating the heat.

“Thank you,” she said.

For a moment, Zeph stood over her, observing.

“What?” she asked.

“Eat,” he said.

“I’m warming my hands first.”

“You’re cold?”

“Yes.”

Zeph turned to the fire and waved his hand at it. The fire hissed to life with a whoosh. Arwyn felt the heat on her skin immediately.

“Now eat,” he said, finding purchase in the chair beside her.

Arwyn ate tentatively, chewing slowly, sopping the bread, which Zeph had made sure to include, into the warm bisque. When she’d had her fill, she placed the bowl on the table beside her.

“Better?” Zeph asked. He had remained silent while she ate, keeping his eyes on the fire.

“I think so,” she answered. He was speaking to her. She felt better about that anyway.

“I was raped.” Zeph’s voice was low, quiet. Honest.

Arwyn turned to face him, surprised he had said the words aloud. She had made it so he would never have to say them, at least not to her. But here he was...saying them anyway. Her eyes misted. “I know,” she said, just as low, just as quiet, and just as honest.

“For years,” he continued, still staring into the flames. Then he looked at her briefly before focusing on something just over her shoulder. “By monsters.” His eye twitched, like he felt the memory and he was doing his best to hold himself as regal as a king. “They even looked like monsters.”

Arwyn remained where she was, afraid the slightest movement would set off Zeph’s defenses. But oh, how she wanted to dive into his arms and hold him. She would never ever let him go.

“Sometimes I wonder...” He paused. “…if I had just died—if the world would have been better off.”

“No,” Arwyn said with certainty. “I, for one, would not be here without you.”

His eyes found hers then. He looked at her like she was the one bright spot in all the world. “I am glad for that, my sweet. The world certainly needs you. It would be cold and empty without you in it.”

“Do you?” Arwyn asked.

“Do I what?”

“Need me?”

“I would be cold and empty without you, too.” His lips quirked. “Rather, colder and emptier than I already am.”

“Zeph—”

He held up his hand. “It took me quite some time to gather the nerve to say this. Allow me to finish. Please.”

Arwyn nodded. “All right.”

He stood and wandered over toward the window and stared out. He did that a lot, Arwyn realized. He had done so for as long as she’d known him. She sat quietly and waited for him to speak. Aside from the faint glow of the moon and the sprinkling of stars, the crackling fire was their everything: their heat, their light, and the only sound in the room.

“I held out for as long as I could. I swear it,” he said. “They were relentless.” Zeph placed his palm flat against the glass pane. “I knew I would die there. It was just a matter of time. There were days when I hoped it would be my last. And then…there were days when I wanted to live to see all of them brought to their knees…by my hand. I wanted to live so I could avenge myself. I knew that unless I pledged fealty to the Unseelie, I would not live long enough for that to happen. I knew I would lose myself. I knew I would become one of them. I knew that I would be susceptible to their lies. I knew it. But I thought…” He paused. “I thought I had figured out a way to save myself.” He glanced at Arwyn over his shoulder. “I cast a spell.” He went back to staring out the window, his fingers idly drawing on the pane. Arwyn wiped the stray tears that had fallen. “Obviously, something went awry. I didn’t do it right. I don’t know. But I lost myself. I think we can all agree to that. I became a monster.” He dropped his hand and backed away from the window. “And I killed my parents. It’s a miracle I didn’t manage to kill my sister, too.”

Arwyn was up and out of her chair and embracing Zeph before he had time to comprehend how an elf had wrapped herself around him so thoroughly. She held him as tightly as she could. His arms were at his sides, unsure what to do with them. When she realized the awkwardness of the moment, she pulled back and stepped away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’m sorry I ever called you a coward. You are not a coward.” She shook her head vehemently. “You are brave. So, so brave. You were just a boy and y-you did the only thing you could do. They tried to destroy you, but they couldn’t. I-I…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes caught his. He was staring at her…as if he’d been thunderstruck. “What?”

For a moment, Zeph was still, motionless, like a tree rooted in the ground. He took in the sight of her, in her chemise, backlit by the fire. “I think you could destroy me in an entirely different way, Arwyn.”

She took in the sight of him, too. Without his robe, she could see the shape of him, broad shoulders, slim waist, long, lean legs. He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful to her. But now that she knew his past, knew what had made him what he came to be, how life had molded him, he wasn’t just beautiful to her. He was everything she thought he could be. “I can’t destroy you, Zeph.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose. “Ah, my sweet, I believe you already have. Piece by piece.”

She moved then, until she was standing only inches from him. “That’s not destroying. That’s rebuilding.”

His eyes popped open, and in them, she saw flames. Desire. He desired her. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by it. “Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered.

“You know my heartbeats.” This time it had not been a question.

She nodded. “Sometimes…I don’t know if they are yours or mine.”

“You should finish it,” he whispered.

She tilted her head, confused. “Finish what?”

He cradled her face, his thumbs drying her wayward tears. “Tear me down, build me back up again. Make me something new. Something else. Something other than what I’ve become.”

“Tell me how and I will do it.”

That’s when he kissed her. Arwyn gasped at the suddenness of it. His lips were hard, demanding. Desperate. It was the kiss of a man grasping for something. He ate at her mouth like he was starving for affection, and when he coaxed her to open for him and felt the stroke of his tongue against hers, Arwyn was swarmed once again with emotion. Hers. His. And she met him, stroke for stroke, until she knew not her own name. She was caught up in the storm of him, tumbling and rolling and then he was—gone.

He was across the room, cursing himself, fists at his temples. It was a feat for Arwyn to stay upright, for she was disoriented. She tried to calm the fluttering in her chest, to no avail.

“Zeph,” she rasped.

He marched toward her. Stopped. Reached for her. Stopped. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing?”

“Yes. No. I…bloody hell! I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”

“Well, don’t apologize!”

He clamped his mouth shut.

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

Zeph scrubbed his hands over his face, then settled them on his hips. “I don’t know. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I’ve hurt enough people in my life.”

“You weren’t hurting me.”

“But I have,” he said softly. “In the last few days alone. Look what I’ve done to you.” Arwyn shook her head, but he continued. “You weren’t eating. You aren’t sleeping.” He slapped his hand over his chest. “That’s my fault.”

“Zeph—”

“I’m sorry.” He backed away. “I care too much for you. What just happened between us—it will never happen again. Goodnight, Arwyn. Get some rest.”

“Zeph!”

“If you care about me at all, please, try to sleep. I need one less thing on my conscience. Please.”

Arwyn bit back words and tears and looked away from the haunted look in Zeph’s eyes. She gave him one magnanimous nod.

“Thank you.”

Then he left the room. But why did it feel like he was leaving her too?