It was cold up here, but the brazier below gave off a little heat. Of course—he shuddered—they didn’t want her dying from the cold before her execution.

Biting his lip, he forced his eyes to her.

Coat pulled around herself, she was crumpled inside the gibbet cage—back braced against the far side, knees against this side, hands tucked up in her sleeves. Her eyes were closed below a deep frown. Her breaths weren’t slow and deep as he’d seen them in proper sleep. She was only dozing. Even in this scant light, he could see her cheeks were hollow, and shadows ringed her eyes. Her usually tanned skin was pale and sallow.

She looked ill.

His stomach twisted so tight it stole his breath. Crouching on the wall, he rubbed his face. This had to be unbearable for someone fae-touched, tantamount to torture. Being executed was one thing, but this …

“Vee,” he murmured. “Vee?”

With a sharp breath, her eyes opened, darting side to side. When they landed on him, they widened, and her mouth fell open. For a few seconds, she only stared.

Eventually, she shook her head, exhaling through her nose. “You’ve got a bloody nerve showing your face here.” She pulled herself upright, face contorting in a wince. “If these bars didn’t burn, I’d reach through and drag you off that damn wall.”

He blinked, shook his head. “What?” If these bars didn’t burn …

Oh Lords, Ladies, Wild Hunt. He had to catch himself against the cold stone of the castle wall as the world tipped. The iron didn’t just block her gift. She wasn’t fae-touched.

If it burned her, it meant …

Gods. She was fae-blooded. Part-fae. Not wholly human.

No wonder her gift was so strong. No wonder she looked ill.

Iron could kill a fae … Was this how it started? Sickness and burns, then a slow, painful decline, and finally death.

His stomach spasmed.

Wrong. This was wrong. His bones creaked with it, cold in the shadow of the iron cage.

He drew a long breath, gripped the stone wall.

No. He only thought it wrong because he’d allowed himself to be compromised by emotion. He’d been confused by her charm, her physicality, their connection.

Shoulders hunched, every angle of her turned inward to avoid touching the metal even through her clothes. She folded her arms and glared at him. “What do you want?”

Clenching his jaw, he steeled himself. “You hang the day after tomorrow. I needed to speak to you first.”

Her nostrils flared. “Did you now? Well, I’m so glad I can be of help to you.” Her body shook; her neck corded. In the dim light, her eyes glistened. “You traitorous bloody bastard.”