He blinked, and his eyes focused on mine. “And then you called my name, and I left everything that I’d gained behind.”

I recoiled back against the table. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “All I knew was that you were sick, and breaking you free was the only way I could think to help you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He lifted a hand as though to touch me, then let it fall back to his side. “This is what I’m trying to explain, Cécile. That I’m angry, but not at you.”

I let my gaze drop to his chest. “I ruined your plans.”

“No. It wasn’t a choice between me answering your call or staying to finish my work in Trollus. It was the choice between answering your call or both of us dying.” A warm filament of magic caught under my chin, lifting my face up. “The only solution was an impossible one, and yet here we stand. Alive.”

There were countless questions I should have asked, with answers that were important for me to hear and know, but I couldn’t seem to remember any of them. So instead I asked, “Is it how you imagined it would be?”

His eyes flickered shut. “There was a time I thought often about what the world outside of Trollus was like; so much so, that I almost convinced myself that I knew. But the reality…” He broke off. “It is vast.”

I knew to him it must be true, but in that moment, I felt the exact opposite. It was as though the world had shrunk down to the size of the front entrance of my home, and that nothing else existed outside the two of us.

“And in truth,” he continued, “since I lost you, the only thing I’ve thought of was what I’d do if I had another chance to be with you again.” He inhaled, and held the breath, and I clung to the moment with greedy anticipation. “But I never dreamed it would be this hard. That it would hurt to hold you.” He held up one arm, then let it fall limply by his side. “That I wouldn’t be able to feel your skin against my fingertips.”

He broke off abruptly, and I instinctively knew that it had cost him to admit the weakness. I wanted to tell him that the iron rot would fade away, that he would get better, but I didn’t know if it would any more than he did.

“You never lost me,” I whispered. “I always knew that we’d…” I broke off, because claiming that I’d had any certainty over the last months seemed like such a lie. “I hoped that…” My breath caught. “I…”

“I know,” he said. And then he kissed me, and all my uncertainty about how he felt was chased away in the press of his lips against mine, the taste of his tongue, the heat of his skin as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Rising onto my tiptoes, I pulled myself against him, relishing his soft intake of breath as my body molded against his, the feel of him so familiar and yet exquisitely unknown. Desire burned low in my stomach – a want that I’d been too long deprived of – making me feel dizzy and breathless.

“Cécile…” His breath tickled against my ear and the lamplight faded dark, then burst brilliantly.

I was dizzy and breathless.

“Cécile?”

“I’m going to faint,” I mumbled, and then my knees buckled and everything went black.

Thirty-Six

Tristan

Had she always been this tiny? I carried Cécile upstairs, finding a bedroom that was all lavender and lace, which managed to be both tidy and disorderly, and knew it was hers. Laying her on the bed, I removed her sodden boots and stockings, but I paused over her dress. It was damp and reeked of smoke, but I hesitated about undressing her while she was unconscious. I’d seen her in less, it was true, but I wasn’t sure she’d appreciate its removal. So I left it on, tucking her under the thick blankets and arranging her tangled hair so that it was no longer in her face.

I did it all without touching her once. Because if I had, all I would have felt was pain.

Removing the manacles had made me feel better, stronger, and no longer at death’s door. But the damage they’d inflicted remained, and it did not seem to be improving. Any attempt to move my hands sent stabbing shocks of agony shooting up my arms, but my fingers were numb and unfeeling. Would they get better, or was this how I was to spend the rest of my days? A lesser, broken version of myself? With most tasks, I could compensate with magic, but not with her. Never again being able to feel her skin beneath my fingertips or to hold her against me without pain was not a loss I’d easily accept.

Dropping to my knees next to the bed, I let my light drift over so I could see Cécile’s face. The rounded cheeks I remembered had hollowed, her bones now sharp and visible through skin that no longer glowed with health. Golden lashes rested over dark bruises like marks beneath her eyes – and the fingernails on the hand that rested next to her chin were bitten down to the point where some had bled. Asleep and without the force of her personality in play, she seemed fragile. Faded.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, kissing her cheek gently before sitting back on my heels.

I was free.

Through magic and sheer force of will, Cécile had broken Anushka’s hold on me. And having been wholly unprepared for the moment, I was still coming to terms with that freedom. It was more overwhelming than I ever could have anticipated.

Closing my eyes, I remembered running down the River Road, faster than the water surging next to me. As fast as I had ever run, as though speed might somehow tear me through the barrier that had bound my people for so long. Terror had lurked deep in my chest as I approached the invisible divide between our world and the outside, knowing it would hurt when I hit it, and knowing that I would do it again and again, with magic and fists until my heart stopped. In that moment, I’d never loved or hated Cécile more, because in one simple command, she’d found a way to end us.