After an hour, Wren broke the connection between them, and Hal sighed heavily. There was no rattle in his lungs, no congestion damming his airways. Her hands tingled with exertion, the fola run raw.

“That’s all for tonight,” she said.

He eased himself into a seated position. His shirt still hung open, revealing a pale triangle of skin. In his prime, he must have been impressive. There was hardly a scar on him—a terrifying testament to how untouchable he was. Sickness had eroded some of his physique, but he was still in lean military shape.

Enough of that, she decided. Disgusted with herself for cataloging anything outside medical significance, she turned away and began to pack up her things.

His searching gaze singed her face like a brand. She tried to ignore it, but two impulses, don’t look and look, warred for dominance. Fear drove the first, curiosity—and indignation—the second. He was staring at her so openly, so intently, she was certain he could see the exact center of her. Did he just go about gaping at everyone so brazenly? He was probably accustomed to getting away with such rudeness when no one dared to challenge him.

If only they knew how he’d deceived them.

I’ll show him, she thought bitterly. I’m not afraid.

She dared to raise her eyes to his, and it felt like jumping from a cliff. Everyone said his eyes were black, but beneath the surface, there was indigo and cobalt, as clear and dark as glacial water. Wren waited for her heart to stop.

It didn’t.

Her satisfaction melted when she took in his expression, lips parted, eyes wide. He looked like a man seeing sunlight for the first time. Starving. Almost … awed?

Before she could let the uneasiness of that settle, Hal spared her and glanced away. Just like that, whatever flicker of emotion Wren had seen was gone.

“What?” he said.

Such accusation condensed into one word. As if she held some power over him. “It’s eye contact. Is no one permitted to look His Highness in the eye?”

“Permission is beside the point.”

It was beside the point. Anyone else wouldn’t dare take the risk.

“Your magic is gone,” she said, quicker than she could think. “Isn’t it?”

He was silent, but the air around him crackled with tension.

“I thought so.” Wren leaned in closer. She wanted to see his fear. She wanted to see his shame. He gave her nothing, but his now bored, heavy-lidded gaze was a challenge. “Now I see why you’re missing, Reaper. You don’t stand a chance of winning your election like this. You ran away because you didn’t want them to realize you’re worthless. Didn’t you?”