“I do,” I said, noncommittal, remembering my own dismay at her reluctance to even consider a visit to Chicago.

She blew out a long, unsteady breath, shifting in place. “It made her so frustrated with me. And by then she’d spent time with the rest of my family, too, gotten to know them. And the way she saw it, Avramovs were inherently problematic—not exactly a foolproof bet for long-lasting romantic partnerships. And if she was going to give up the world for me, I’d better be damn well worth a sacrifice like that.”

The bitterness in her voice made me ache for her, even as I very reluctantly understood just a slice of how Jess had felt. Talia was an intimidating prospect, if you took her only skin-deep, all that beauty and brashness and semi-feral witchcraft wrapped in one very enticing and willful package. Not to mention her family’s decidedly gray-scale magic (and morality), their emphasis on individual freedom above all else.

Though someone who had really loved her should have known better than to leave her at that, instead of looking past the trappings and down to the tender core.

“In the end, she decided I wasn’t worth the risk,” Talia finished stiffly. “So the summer season ended, and so did we. She broke things off right before she left. Cue heartbreak, disillusion, devastation, and the like.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, tipping my forehead against hers. “That must have been so hard on you. And then Gareth’s hot garbage, on top of all that? I can’t imagine.”

“It was all some fresh hell,” she agreed, but then the tension in her face softened a touch. “So I guess you can see why I had to at least pretend to pace myself with you.”

“Well, I for one am glad we managed to move past pretending,” I said, grazing a kiss over her forehead.

“Have we, though?” she said, wariness creeping back into her tone. “Because, what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, almost wincing as soon as the words were out, for how much they sounded like I was purposely playing dumb.

“You know what, Emmy,” she said, a little impatiently, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. “There’s only one more challenge left to go. And then what happens with you and me, once the Gauntlet’s over? I can’t be the only one of us who’s considered that this—whatever this is becoming—has a built-in expiration date.”

“No,” I said, drawing myself up against the headboard. “I mean, you’re right. Of course it’s crossed my mind. I do have to go home when this is all over, back to work. But we’ve both known that all along.”

“Maybe, yeah.” She licked her lips, eyes searching my face. “But I was starting to hope you might . . . change your mind, consider sticking around a little longer. Extend your sabbatical for a while or work remotely, something like that.”

“I can’t just do that, Talia,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended—because here it was, the glinting trip wire, exactly where Linden had warned me it would be. “That’s not how real life works. Or a real job.”