“I’m here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had dressed and looked every bit the deadly conqueror and regal king he was. His tunic was fine and delicately threaded with intricate designs. His hair was smooth, half pinned away from his angled face. His expression was severe, save for his eyes which studied me tenderly. Then he lifted his hand to caress my cheek and I flinched away.

His eyes widened and he dropped his hand quickly. As soon as I realized what I had done, I reached for him.

“I did not mean—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s all right.”

My throat was thick with emotion. I might have cried again if I’d had anything left to give, but I didn’t.

Instead, I lifted his palm to the side of my face and closed my eyes, focusing on his warmth. Then he slowly let his hand fall away, and instead, threaded his fingers through mine.

I stared at our hands while memories and words spun in my head. Finally, I spoke. “I do not understand what happened at the lake.”

“There is no understanding it,” Adrian said. “Because it is hate, and hate can exist with no reason.”

“It shouldn’t,” I said. “We were only trying to help banish the thing they feared.”

“You were,” he said. “And they did not deserve it.”

Before tonight, I wouldn’t have agreed, but now I was starting to think that the world did not deserve my blood or tears. “Do you know what was so terrifying?” I asked. I kept my voice low. Perhaps I thought that would lessen the pain of what I was about to say. “I got to the point where I was going to accept death,” I said, and suddenly, I found the ability to shed more tears. “I could feel it. It blanketed my body, a familiar and warm embrace…and if I had succumbed, you would have too.”

I had been closer to death than any other time before now, and that struck me hard. I was tired of being the weakest—tired of being the target for everyone’s revenge against Adrian.

“Isolde,” he said, my name a soft plea on his lips.

I knew he did not wish for me to think of this right now.

I released his hand and shifted onto my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck, but he did not touch me. Instead, he had fisted his hands and they rested beside him on the bed.

“Change me,” I said, with more force in my voice than I had managed to use since I had woken up from this nightmare.

“Isolde—”

“You must! Before it is too late. You cannot be so blind. This will happen again.”

“Not this way,” he said. Now his hands had moved; they braced my body, as if he were prepared to push me away. “I will not change you this way.”