She didn’t know she could want someone so much, but if this was it—if this was her last chance to be with him—then Tavia was done holding back. She was done pretending.

Her legs were still wrapped around Wesley and she could feel every twitch of his bones and the thump of his heart against hers.

She pressed her hand to the back of his neck and Wesley’s breath turned ragged.

“Gods.” Wesley swallowed. “Tavia, just stop for one second.”

It was like a plea.

Tavia broke away, detangling herself from him just as suddenly as they had collided, a weight of disappointment inside her heart.

It wasn’t enough.

There just wasn’t enough time in the world anymore.

Her legs slid slowly down Wesley’s body and when her feet met the ground, the world felt tilted and shaken.

She didn’t think she could keep standing if Wesley’s hands weren’t pressed firmly against her shoulders, like he was trying so desperately to keep himself from her.

Tavia wished he wouldn’t try so hard.

“What is it?” she asked.

Wesley pressed his forehead to hers, breath as uneven as the world felt. He kissed her again, but it was short and quick and it left Tavia’s lips dry and aching.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids,” he said.

When Tavia looked into his eyes this time, she saw color. Rimming the pools of black that had engulfed his irises was a small circle of brown. It was thin, and against the moonlight she had to squint to discern the colors, but it was there. The same brown as the tree bark.

“I love you,” Wesley said again.

Tavia thought hearing those words would make her happy, but she only wanted to cry. She’d been waiting so long for him to say them and now that he had, it was too late.

She couldn’t be with him anymore, no matter how desperately she wanted it.

“I love you too,” she said.

Wesley smiled and bit by bit, piece by piece, she was coming undone.

“I just wanted us to say it,” he said. “Just once, just in case.”

“We’re not going to die,” Tavia told him. “Everything will be okay.”

It was the worst lie she had ever told.

“Is that a promise?” Wesley asked, that old smile tugging at his lips.

Tavia tried not to break promises often. It seemed like a bad habit most buskers picked up and she prided herself on not being like most buskers. But promising Wesley they’d both make it out of this war in one piece, when she knew that her future was already sealed, felt like the only way to make sure he went ahead with his plans. To make sure he focused on Ashwood, instead of her. To make sure he didn’t turn his back on his family.

He can’t know, she thought.