She was quiet. But she touched his hair, and he felt reassured by the gesture.

“I have told you of my struggles,” he said. “I continue to relive the last time I spoke to you. I was angry about the trade and the notion of peace Adaira was striving for. I was angry because it made me feel guilty for all the things I’ve done. When you told me that you would heal a Breccan in need . . . the indignation within me rose and I couldn’t see past it. All I could see was the terror of the raids I have fought off. All I could think of were the nights I have surrendered being with you in order to keep the east secure. All I could feel was the pain in my old wounds. Because of that, I couldn’t see that you were right. You have the ability to behold our enemy as a person in need. You see what I cannot, Sidra. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said to you that day, and I’m sorry that I didn’t listen when you spoke.”

Sidra exhaled. “Torin . . .”

He was waiting for her to respond, feeling like his heart was unmoored. Gently, he eased her down to his lap. Her eyes were aligned with his, her breaths mingling with his own.

“In the past,” she began, “I’d look at Maisie and think of who she would become in five years, ten years, thirty years, fifty years. I’d think of what her life on the isle would be like. I’d think about the legacy I wanted to leave for her. Would she be full of fear? Of hatred? Or would she be full of what we’ve taught her? Would she be compassionate? Would she be swift to listen, to learn and change?”

“I want a life for Maisie that is better than my own,” Torin agreed, as if their daughter were asleep in the next room. “I want to change. But my bones are old, my heart is selfish, my spirit is weary. I look at me and I look at you, and I see two different dreams. I am death. And you, Sidra . . .” He reached out to touch her face, softly, as if she might vanish beneath his fingers. “You are life.”

She closed her eyes beneath his caress. When his hand eased away, she looked at him and whispered, “Does that mean we cannot exist as one?”

He had been waiting for her to ask this. He had yearned to answer her in the orchard, when she had made it evident that they were vastly contrasting souls.

“No,” Torin said. “It means that without you, I am nothing.”

He felt her shiver. His hands were on her hips, and he was tempted to draw her closer. But there was still more he needed to say.