I look up at the terse voice, only to see Lucien standing there. Did he follow me? His gaze parses over my face, my blood tears. Old God’s gaping mouth—now’s not the time to remind him I’m a Heartless. It will never be the time.

I wipe at my cheeks frantically with my sleeves. “Mistake?” I start. “So you didn’t get the medicine, then?”

“Do you have any idea how many people could’ve seen those blood tears?” In one fell swoop he’s kneeling beside me, voice burning. “My people are fearful, but they aren’t dense. Everyone inside this godsdamn wall knows what it means to cry blood! The temple warns about it, the children sing about it, and you just did it! In front of who knows how many!”

concern for a relic of the past is unbecoming of you, sir prince, the hunger taunts. The hunger is right. I’m his past. Not his future.

I throw my hair back over my shoulder, gold on blue. “Did you get the medicine or not?”

His brows carve deep against the cowl. “They could know what you are! They could be marching lawguards all over the city looking for you right now!”

I breathe deep. I have to take his focus off me. He’s moving backward, when he needs to face the truth and move forward. I am a traitor. Closure will help him, and apologies are a good place to start. I need to apologize while I still have the chance. In a blink he could be gone, entrenched in the court again. Beyond my reach.

“I’m sorry, Lucien.” I meet his gaze squarely. “I’m sorry for not telling you what I—”

“Save your apologies,” he snarls, his hand darting out and enveloping my own. His fingers are so incredibly warm. “We have to go. If they know what you are…”

He stands, pulling me up with him, but before he can start off, I rip out of his grip. That one movement takes everything in me—to move away from his concern instead of toward it, like every inch of my skin desires.

“If—” I steady my voice. “If the people of Vetris discover a Heartless in their midst, if they tie her up, if they burn her alive—it would not do for the prince of Cavanos to care about it.”

I pray to both gods he understands. There’s a beat. And then…

“It would not do,” he agrees, his fury muting to something low and soft.

My breath punctures out of me like a pierced bubble. Of course he understands. It’s obvious to anyone with two whits of court knowledge the prince should not care for a traitor.

“But I wouldn’t be able to help it,” he adds.

My head snaps up. “What?”