I looked over my shoulder at him, puzzled that he would even ask, and by the wistfulness in his voice. He looked back at me with something that looked like tiredness on his face, the moonlight falling gently over him. I nodded, watching him, and Dain's shoulders slumped. He took the two steps towards me and gathered me into his arms from behind. First one, then the other of his wing-hands settled onto me, wrapping across my stomach. His arms went across my chest, and he shuddered, hands on my arms and sides.

"Did you have to break my nose?" he asked, resting his face against me. "It hurt quite a lot, though I do admit it made an impression on the High Court."

"Ask before you do stuff like that," I said, reaching up and putting my hands on his arm. "I would have stopped at kicking you in the groin if you'd put me down."

"That hurt quite a lot, too," Dain said, sounding pained.

I leaned my face against his. "Ask, and I won't make you stop."

"You will note that I asked this time," he said. The words were all spoken with a tired sort of sorrow, one that felt so different from the hopefulness of earlier in the evening. I never heard him like this, with exhaustion and despair dragging against him.

"What's wrong, Dain?" I asked.

His arms tightened around me, all four of them. I thought for a moment that he wouldn't answer, or would sidestep the question, but he made a soft noise and buried his face at the base of my neck.

"I'm so tired of pretending," he said in a harsh whisper. "To my mother, to Stag Court, to you. I don't know if I can do this for even sixteen more days."

Sixteen days. All that was left of our year and a day, the bare two weeks I had to decide whether to break our hearts, or give Dain everything.

"Tired of pretending what?" I asked. I knew the answer without asking, but I thought he needed to say it, even though he'd said it in as many words already, that night in the hedge maze. I would submit to the Bone Court's torturers for a year and a day to be your lover.

He laughed against my neck, a bitter sound. "That I don't love you. That there could ever have been another option for me besides the joy of love returned or the despair of separation. That I can ever again face my life without you by my side."

"Dain..." I didn't know what to say. How can you comfort someone whose heart is breaking because of you? I swallowed. "There's not even a knife-edge for us to walk, is there?"