Five minutes later, rewashed and tired, we left the shower. Curran sprawled on the bed. I forced myself to dress—we could end up jumping out of bed straight into a fight—and collapsed next to him. Above us the absurd purple canopy shifted gently in the night breeze. The cool wind felt nice on my skin.

He leaned over on his side, held me, and whispered in my ear, so quietly I thought I imagined it. “I meant it. One word and you’ll never see his face again. In the morning, this castle will be a bonfire and we’ll sail home.”

I’d have to word this carefully. People were listening to us. I whispered back to him. “If we sail down the coast southwest, we’ll pass by the ruins of Troy. Do you remember the story of Paris and Helen?”

“Yes,” he said.

Troy’s favorite son and badass archer, Paris, had sailed to Sparta. He came under a banner of truce. The Spartan king treated him as an honored guest, and then Paris stole the king’s wife, Helen, and emptied his treasury. Nobody really knew if he kidnapped Helen or if she went with him. Her husband could’ve loved her or beaten her every day. But the whole of Greece united against Paris. At the end, Troy was a smoking ruin.

I kissed his jaw. “The bow and arrow was never your thing.”

He locked his teeth, making his jaw muscles bulge.

We promised to be impartial. We came in peace. If we broke that peace and started a bloodbath, we’d get a bloodbath in return. Nobody would see it as an act of a man trying to save the woman he loved from her father’s warlord. The European packs would spin it as an act of betrayal from a man who couldn’t handle being insulted.

Attacking Hugh would be an act of war. Not to mention that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that even if both of us fought him, we’d survive that confrontation. Whatever the outcome, Roland would have an excuse to burn the Keep to the ground. He already viewed the Atlanta Pack as a threat, and this would be the tasty icing on his massacre cake. By the time we got home, people we knew and cared about would be dead.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s because of me.” I was the reason we were all trapped here. I didn’t cause it, but I was the reason for it.

He pulled me to him and squeezed me. “You’re worth the fight,” he said in my ear.

He had no idea how much I loved him.

“We all volunteered,” he whispered. “And without you, we wouldn’t have a shot at the panacea. We need it desperately.”