She sighed the deepest sigh of her life.

“Thank you, Knigh.”

But the words tasted bitter. And his hand under hers … The touch of his skin was warm, but it also prickled.

He’d come for her in that cage when no one else had. He’d saved her life. And he’d given up so much to do it. His status as a law-abiding subject. His country. His career.

For him, it wasn’t just a career. It was inextricably spliced with his identity, like two ends of rope neatly joined. Then there was his family’s financial stability and independence from Mercia.

Knigh was now a fugitive fleeing Albion.

And he’d done it all for her.

But.

She clenched her jaw. She’d only needed saving because of his betrayal.

Who knew if her body would ever be right again? If this damage was permanent …

She shook, blood burning, skin cold, trapped between horror and anger.

If it was permanent, it would be his fault. She’d be weak and vulnerable forever, maybe not able to use her gift properly, and it would all be because of him.

Because he was too bloody stupid to understand she hadn’t actually killed Avice Ferrers. Because he’d been too ready to believe she was the villain his beloved Navy claimed.

Because he’d done the inevitable: he’d let her down.

She should have known.

Wild Hunt, she had known.

People always let you down in the end.

And here was the perfect case in point, so bloody tempting with that gorgeous face, flawless body, and … and …

Breaths too fast, she squeezed his sodding hand.

Bastard.

Despite all that, his closeness was comforting.

Lords and Ladies, it would be easy to continue like this, especially since they were posing as husband and wife. But … It had been a comforting lie to get through last night. It had served its purpose, and now the desperation and fear of escape had faded. And she couldn’t just forget what he’d done.

She swallowed it down—stamped it down, and slammed the lid shut. It was for the best. She didn’t want him, didn’t need him. Just bodies, that was all they’d ever been. She didn’t care about him. He didn’t mean anything to her except a route back to Arawaké where she belonged.

Nothing more.

Nodding, she pulled her hand from his grip. “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin, smiling, “thank you so much for getting me out of the mess you got me into in the first place.”

He stilled, head turning towards her, brow creasing in an expression that, on him, was the equivalent of breaking. “Vee, don’t—”