“You’re okay,” I say.

“Yes.” He smoothes a hand over my hair. “Lena’s had me speaking with the province elders.”

“Will they support her?” I ask.

“Some might.”

His words are a whisper, and I know this isn’t the conversation we should be having right now. I have things I need to say, things I need to tell him.

“Kyol—”

“Shh,” he says. “I know.” He draws in a breath and takes a step back to look at me. “I wish . . . I wish things had turned out differently. I wish I hadn’t been such a fool.”

“But—”

“No. It’s okay. I understand why you’re leaving me. You’ve made the right decision. I’ve made so many wrong ones.”

The pain and regret in his voice kill me. I don’t say anything because I can’t. My throat burns too much. If there was a way to do this without hurting him, I would. He’s my protector, my first love, my best friend. He’s the one person in my life who’s always understood me, but what I said in Naito’s backyard is true: I never should have had to wait ten years for him. I should have respected myself more than that, known I deserved to be treated better. I should have demanded to be treated better. Maybe if I had, he would have given in. We would be together. But I was a coward. I never gave him an ultimatum because I was afraid he’d choose his king over me.

“I should go,” Kyol says. “The remnants are still attacking the palace and Lena is . . .”

There are a number of ways I could fill in that blank, but I raise an eyebrow, waiting.

“She is reckless,” he finishes. “She insists on being part of the guard rotation. We need more fae to keep control of the palace, but it’s foolish for her to risk herself.” He draws in a breath. “I just needed to make sure you were okay before I speak to her again.”

“I’m fine,” I say, but tears pool in my eyes. I try to hide them, but Kyol sees. He takes me into his arms again. I should push him away because I don’t want to make this good-bye any harder. I’ll see him again, but we won’t be like this. We’ll be . . . just friends. Acquaintances. Colleagues.

A sharp shrrip cuts through the air. Kyol tightens his arms around me, then focuses on something over my shoulder. “If Jorreb hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

He kisses my hand, lets his lips linger, drinking in my chaos lusters one last time. Then he steps back, lettings my fingers slip through his as he opens a fissure. A moment later, he’s gone.

Before I turn, I wipe the tears from my cheeks.

Aren stands a few feet away. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his hair is a wild, disheveled mess, but he’s no longer covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. He looks tired, though. Tired and maybe a little apprehensive.

He speaks before I’m able to make my voice cooperate. “If I were a good man,” he says, “I’d acknowledge that Taltrayn is an honorable fae, that he loves you and would take care of you. I’d step down and let you have the man you’ve always wanted, but, McKenzie, I’m not as good as Taltrayn. I never will be, and I can’t step down. I’ll fight for the chance to be with you.”

Those are words I waited a decade to hear from Kyol. But in all that time, I never prepared an answer to them. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell Aren that I need to see if we can be something together.

The way he draws in his next breath seems strained and his gaze flickers to the wall before returning to me. “I know we didn’t get off to a good start.” He lets out a laugh. “I know you hated me and I threatened you and provoked you, but we could start over. I wouldn’t hurt you again. Sidhe, I swear I’d never hold a sword to your throat. I’d protect you. I’d make sure you never had to jump out another window, and I’d . . .”

I’m tempted to let him continue, but he’s rambling, and that’s so unlike him I can’t help but smile. He stops midsentence.

“McKenzie?”

“I might give you another chance,” I say.

His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. He focuses on them as if he’s not sure he heard me correctly. Then a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Might?” He laughs. “I’ve always said you were stubborn, nalkin-shom.”

He approaches me then. There are still issues between us, things we need to discuss and disagreements we need to work out, but my heart thumps when his fingertips graze my cheek. It’s a light, tender touch, there just long enough to warm my face. He moves closer. I feel the heat of his body, smell cedar and cinnamon, and my lips suddenly ache to feel his. They’re so close. If he lowers his head one millimeter more . . .

“I love you,” Aren whispers.

I shiver when something hot strikes through me. Not an edarratae; it’s something deeper, more potent and powerful. He must feel it, too, because he captures my mouth in the next instant. The kiss is possessive, desperate, and delicious. He doesn’t hold back or let it end. He pulls me up in his arms until only the toes of my shoes touch the ground. I hold on, return his kiss, and flush with heat as chaos lusters fire through my skin. They coil around us both, melding us together, as the world fades away.