It isn’t until I open those lids that I realize why I’m seeing anything.

I am not dead.

I am on the ground. My skull has struck dirt. Out of the far corner of my eye, I can see the iron horse rolling past along the lane. The lane is back, and the cottages, and the distant bleat of the goats, the shriek of the gulls.

Directly above me, inches away, hands flanking me, Matthew Clare is back too.

He pushed me out of the way. Saved me.

“I saw them.” I blink away the pain in the back of my head. It isn’t much. An egg, at worst. “I accepted it. I gave in. They killed me. I should be dead.”

Matty’s eyes haven’t left mine, sadness and hope and desperation swirling like an eddy in the depths of them. “What? Saw who? You’re here, Nina; you hit your head pretty hard. I’m sorry.”

I’m suddenly not quite sure what I mean—who they are, what exactly I saw. Did I see anything at all? I can’t remember. I remember the weather vane flying at me, but I’m fine and Matthew is above me, his narrow hips settling against my wider ones. He smells like soil and sweat, and I know what the island wants me to do.

I know.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I say.

I tilt my chin until it connects with the prickles on his. He lets out a slow sigh, sliding more heavily against me.

No. Stop.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. This is wrong, I’m married, I hardly know him, but Lute put him over me and me under him and some dim part of me is trying to fight it, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Lute doesn’t want me to, and I am Lute, I belong here.

“Nina.” This time, my name is a warning, a we shouldn’t, but his body is responding to mine.

I whisper, “Thank you for saving me,” and loop my arms around his neck, and that’s it. We’ve tipped over the edge of the world.

When our mouths connect, my confusion evaporates. The kiss has intention. We’ve been put here for a reason. It would be selfish to stop, to fight. There’s a reason for all of this, and we have to submit.

I dig my fingers into his tangled hair and hold him to me, my own head grinding into the gravel. My legs wind up around him, as, beneath my hunter coat, my sundress bunches up and up, pooling around my waist. I can’t stop.

His tongue slides against mine, and I drink him in. He tastes sweet, spiced, like nutmeg.

Nothing exists but this, right now. My bare thighs tight around him, my eyes closed, both of us burning white.