"All I was told is that you have them, Dain. I didn't let him say any more than that." I let out a breath, looking at the closed door to the ballroom. "I knew it already, anyway," I said, thinking of Zhiolas swearing not to say something on the day I'd met him, and shook my head. "Look, I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just go take care of each other for a little while."

"If that's what you want," Dain said tentatively.

"It is," I replied.

Dain nodded, then settled himself. Pain crossed his face again, before he put on his princely glower and flung open the door, striding off the balcony with me on his arm.

Most of the revelers had gone already, but there were still some pairs of assessing eyes that watched us go. We'd been on the balcony together quietly for hours, after our rather dramatic set of actions when we'd arrived together. Did it look like we were falling apart, swinging wildly between extremes, unable to settle? Or could those glittering eyes peel away the act Dain and I were both sick of carrying on?

We'd have to do it forever, I realized. If I was that afraid of the Queen, we would have to pretend to be something other than soulmated trueloves, for hundreds or thousands of years. Maybe more.

No.

A quiet certainty settled over me at that thought. This was stupid—ridiculous. It had made sense in the beginning, when I hadn't known where or if I might be able to fall, but now? I might as well be ashamed of Dain, deciding to cower and snivel, and to ask him to do it alongside me.

No more, I decided. I'd have to ask him first—but I didn't think he would protest. My chest grew tight, thinking about how he might respond instead. I'd been so fucking selfish, all this time, thinking only about myself and what I might want. How had it felt for him, all these months, for me not to even claim him as my friend? How many sneering comments had he endured, about how he wasn't worth any form of emotional connection? Dain had silently made himself my shield, not just for swords and arrows, but against the machinations of Stag Court, and the people who wanted to hurt him.

He let me go and closed the door to his rooms behind us, weariness sinking into every line of his body. Dain stood there for a moment, his hand on the door, then sighed and turned to me with a tired smile.

"No more pretending," I said, before I could even think to stop the words. I couldn't bear to watch him do this to himself any longer.

Confusion drew his brows together. "What?"