“You can’t blame yourself,” Grace said. James thought she probably meant it. “The bracelet was forged by a Prince of Hell. Woven into it was the power to make those who had observed the bracelet and what it could do forget what they had seen. If you tried to think about it, if your friends or family tried to think about it, they would quickly forget. No matter your behavior, they would accept that you loved me.” She took a ragged breath. “But you didn’t, did you? You loved Cordelia despite everything. Loved her enough to shatter the spell, break the bracelet.” There was wonder in her voice. “I know I have done you an immense wrong, James. But truly, if any mortal in this world has proof of the truth of love, it is you.”

James regarded her for a long moment, taking in her damp pale eyelashes, the sharp planes of her cheekbones, the mouth he had once thought he would die to kiss.

“I cannot imagine the life you must have had,” he said harshly, “that would lead you to offer that to me as comfort.”

“No,” said Grace. “You cannot imagine my life.”

“I will not pity you,” said James. “The bracelet broke only last night, and even in the short time since then, I’ve been remembering. I can remember Cordelia reading to me—how I felt about her—and it may have been puppy love, but it was new and wonderful and you smashed it underfoot as if you were crushing a butterfly with a brick.” He could hear the bitterness in his voice. “I remembered how, when you took the bracelet off me four months ago, I felt as though a fog had been lifted from my brain. I could think again. I’ve only been half-alive since I was fourteen. You have not just made me think that I loved you, you have subsumed my will over and over until I no longer know who I am. Do you even understand what it is that you’ve done?”

“You want me to say I will atone,” Grace said, in an oddly flat voice. “It does not matter, I suppose. I will do what I am told, save one thing. I came here to beg you for help because I can no longer bear to do my mother’s bidding.”

“Yet you still pretended you loved me when you did, and expected me to love you,” said James. “You did not ask for my help—you expected it to be compelled. Why should I believe anything you say?”