“W-what?” I cleared my throat and tried to stifle my magic, wincing when I accidentally produced a lightning bolt that struck the nearest tree with a deafening rumble and split the trunk in two.

“You regret sacrificing your ring for me.” He shrugged a little. “It’s understandable.”

“I regret that I had to sacrifice the signet ring, yeah.” I spread my fingers wide and stared at them. “The signet ring is precious to the House. It’s been passed down for generations, and now it’s gone. It also would have made things a lot easier. Without the ring, Mason couldn’t become Adept, and no one could say House Medeis wasn’t mine. But since it’s destroyed…” I trailed off. Feeling wet and miserable from my cry, I added, “I don’t regret saving you, though.”

“You’re lying.” Killian stood. I think he wanted the even-greater-than-normal height-advantage. He glowered down at me, the rims of his black eyes glowing red. “How can you not regret it?”

I sighed and rested my chin on my chest. “Because I like you,” I said. “You, Celestina, Gavino—you’re all important to me. I’d never regret saving any of you.”

He crouched again, this time his expression more thoughtful as he studied me. “That’s what drove you to attack Solene.”

I sniffed, and closed my eyes in concentration as I stuffed the magic down when it tried to leak out through my pores. “I thought we weren’t talking about that?”

“We are now.” Killian sat down next to me, folding one long leg underneath him and stretching the other out. “You were an idiot for that attack, too.”

“Why are you so snippy about it?”

“Snippy?”

“When I first woke up after the accident, you seemed pleased I had unlocked my magic.” I sat on my rear and pulled my legs flush against my chest so I could rest my chin on my knees. “It wasn’t until later that day that you were irritated with me for doing it.”

“Let’s just say I had a slow, dawning realization,” Killian drawled.

“About what?”

“Your special brand of idiocy that drives you to put too much on the line for others. Hazel, you didn’t have to save me.”

His voice was dark and deep, naturally drawing me to look at him. He looked again like a stinkin’ model in a night garden photo shoot. I was reeeaaalllyyy tempted to kick him and maybe knock him over and ruin that perfect confidence and unshakable attractiveness, but I was more likely to injure my foot than actually knock him off balance. “You could have gotten free?” My voice was scratchy still from crying.

Killian shrugged. “Most likely. But no one would have expected you to sacrifice the ring. You could have run.”

I huddled in a miserable ball. “No, I couldn’t have. I have to do what I can live with.”

“And this you can live with?” Killian waved a hand at me.

I drew in a ragged breath. “It hurts right now, but yeah. Maybe I’m not fit to be a leader. We’re supposed to sacrifice everything for the House, but I just can’t ignore people.”

“I am well aware of the veneration wizards have for Houses,” Killian dryly said.

There was something extra sarcastic in the way he said it. “You don’t think it’s a good focus to have?”

“Your magical Houses? Not particularly.” He set his hands behind him and leaned back on them, the most relaxed I’d ever seen him besides the time he let me pull him into the pool. “I find it shocking that I am saying this out of all people, but shouldn’t it be the reverse? The House should exist for the wizards, not the wizards for the House.”

His observation shouldn’t have been shocking. It should have been obvious. But there was still something about it that rattled me. “I…what?”

“Wizards didn’t have this unhealthy obsession with their Houses until it became clear that magic was dying and that our society would fade away with it,” Killian said. “It was around then that everyone—wizards included—rallied to their power base in a hope to preserve it for as long as possible. For wizards, that meant protecting their House. As decades passed, it seems it’s been taken to an extreme so the House has precedence over the wizards themselves.”

I stared at Killian. “Exactly how old are you?”

Killian smirked. “Old enough to know it hasn’t always been like this. Old enough to know we’re all a product of desperation.”

“And by all your political maneuvering and—as you called it—rallying your power base, it seems you don’t think there’s another way?”

Killian stared at me for several long moments, which made me realize exactly how prying the question was.

I had asked in a strange twist of hope and worry. Was there another way? Killian didn’t think there was or he wouldn’t be so—

Killian took my hand in his and raised it to his mouth. His black eyes glittered with extra chips of red. “A year ago I would have said no.”

My throat was embarrassingly tight—let’s face it, even if you had great survival instincts like me, when you were staring at a face like Killian’s and he was gently holding your hand like you mattered, well, there was no resisting that. “And now?” I managed to squeak out.

I pretty much expected Killian to grin at me because, like I said before, he knew he was attractive, so I was extra shocked when he gently kissed the top of my hand, his breath cool against my skin. “I don’t know.”

I stared at my knees with great interest when he dropped my hand. Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, it will be over if I look at him.

“I’m sorry, Hazel.”

I dumbly turned to him. “Huh?” Shock and confusion fought in my brain—shock because I had never heard Killian say he was sorry before. Killian never said anything that could possibly put him in debt with anyone. (He didn’t even thank me when I killed Solene!) And confusion because what did he have to be sorry about?

Killian held my gaze until my lungs twisted in my chest. “I’m sorry about the signet ring.”

“Oh,” I said in a small voice. I tried to force a smile, but I could already feel the sting of tears in my eyes. “It’s not your fault. Mason is a crooked wizard, obviously. He was the one who threatened you. He deserves a good smack in the face and to be tossed in jail—even if the Wizard Council doesn’t see it that way. But you don’t have to be sorry about it because it was my choice, too, and I—”

Killian grabbed my wrist again—cutting off my uncontrollable babble—and tugged on me, tipping me over so I toppled against his chest.

He gently curled his arms around me, his coolness comforting against the heat of my tears and sadness.

It was a rare kindness from the usually hardened vampire, and it was too much to take.

My face crumpled, and I couldn’t hold in my sob. I shoved my face against his chest—hoping to muffle myself even just a little—and latched my arms around his waist.

Killian maneuvered me into a more comfortable position that had me sprawled against him, then wrapped his arms around me again, his thumbs gently caressing my shoulders.

For a moment I wondered if this was okay. Was I an idiot for crying my eyes out and snotting all over Killian Drake’s shirt?

“Don’t think our discussion about the Unclaimed vampire is over.” Killian’s voice cut through my cloud of confusion.

“Why do we have to talk about it?” I rested my cheek against his chest.

“Because you’re an idiot.” Killian sounded resigned.

“What else is there to say?” I asked. “We figured out the motive and everything. My magic was unlocked. Isn’t it case closed?”

“Your behavior is the problem,” Killian said. “Specifically, your tendency to throw yourself head first into danger.”

“You didn’t seem too upset with me right after the fight.”

“The more time passes, the longer I’ve had to dwell upon your special brand of idiotic justice.” Killian’s chest rumbled against my cheek as he talked.

I tried to discreetly push a little closer to him—his coolness was a lot more comfortable than the moist heat I’d stirred in myself between the crying and my magic. “What happened to being virtuous?”

Killian tightened his arm around me in response to my movement. “I called you a virtuous idiot. That is still an excellent description.”

“So is that the reason why Solene suddenly became a forbidden topic?” I asked. “You were mad at me for going in without backup?”

“Yes,” Killian growled.

I stared at the soft fabric of Killian’s dress shirt, a little confused.

What was so taboo about that? Yeah, I had been brash, but it turned out okay. If it upset him that much why didn’t he just tell me and move on instead of growling about it for months afterward? “You are surprisingly petty about weird things.”

“And if you weren’t half as amusing as you are, you’d be dead by now,” Killian drolly said.

The underlying threat didn’t bother me. I lifted my head off his soft shirt just long enough to smooth the fabric before I let my head fall back on his chest with a thump. “If you meant to put me in my place, you should have done that before I used your shirt as a giant tissue.”

“No longer afraid of me?”

“Not for me, no. Though I am mighty aware that you wouldn’t be nearly so long-suffering with anyone outside Drake Hall,” I said. “I’m plenty certain in your skills of intimidation and terror.”

There were a lot of possible responses I expected from that—playfulness, maybe. Agreement. Perhaps smugness because I was sort of praising him.

I did not expect him to rest his chin on my head and let the comfortable silence stretch on.

Exhausted, I let my eyes drift shut, and let Killian bear my full weight. (I was pretty small, he had vampire strength, he could manage as far as I was concerned.)