“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning down to brush her lips against his. She felt his breath quicken and she tightened her arms around him. “It doesn’t seem like that to me.”

“Ephyra,” he said, sounding pained. “I just wanted to see if you were all right.”

“Since when does that matter to you?” she asked. “Since when are you this caring and concerned for my welfare? That’s not the Illya that I know.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” he muttered, reaching to unhook her arms from the back of his neck.

He held her wrists, gentle but firm, between them. A bolt of frustration struck through Ephyra, and she leaned forward, capturing his lips the way she had in the tomb all those months ago, wanting the fire, wanting to burn again.

He didn’t push her away this time. He cupped her face with one hand, the other still gripping her wrist as she surged against him.

But it was like he wouldn’t play along. He still kissed her back, but he was gentle, tender in a way that made Ephyra feel like she would shatter.

She pulled away abruptly. “What are you doing?”

He stared at her, his golden eyes reflecting what little light there was.

“What do you think this is?” she demanded, her voice going brittle to hide how close she was to tears. “That’s—that’s not what I want from you.”

“Then tell me what you do want,” he said, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his voice. “Because I have no idea.”

She sat back, putting distance between them. “You can’t just kiss me like that. You can’t just act like you care about me and expect me to believe it.”

He swallowed, looking away.

“That’s not what this is,” she said forcefully.

“I should go.” He stood.

“Wait.” Her hands clenched at her sides. She could feel a numb hollowness rising within her, and she knew it would consume her if she was left alone.

He paused, turning back to her. Waiting.

“In Pallas Athos,” she began, “Beru told me that you were the one who approached her and said you wanted to help get me out. Why?”

He shrugged. “I guess I owed you. For Behezda.”

“No,” she said, scraping herself off the bedroll. “Illya Aliyev doesn’t owe people. Why would you risk betraying Pallas? What did you have to gain?”

“Not everything is about gaining something.”

She barked out a laugh. “For you, it is.”

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t have joined back up with Pallas in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Ephyra asked, somehow fearing the answer.

“Pallas knew exactly why I joined him again,” Illya said. “Beru figured it out, too. It was obvious to everyone except you.”

“What was obvious?”