“One day, she didn’t come home. They found her body in the river. I was old enough then to do something. It wasn’t hard to find the man who murdered her. Everyone talked about it because no one cared that she was dead. Except me, though she did nothing to deserve my vengeance, save birth me.

“After I killed the murderer of my mother, I fled Revekka for Keziah. They are a vibrant and warrior-like people. I trained with them and only came to the Red Palace for the King’s Tournament. Dragos did not care that I had murdered, not after seeing my skill in the ring, and he did not know that the only reason I sought to be part of his guard was so that I could kill him.”

“I never knew,” I said. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Once the truth is spoken, it always seems to find its target.” He was quiet for a moment. “Once, though, a long time ago when I thought you and I could have a peaceful life under the mountains, my vengeance did not matter so much.”

I recalled our conversation in the woods near the cabin where we’d spent our final night, when we had discussed a future that was so far out of reach, it would now only ever be a nightmare.

“Perhaps our mistake was ever thinking we were meant for such things,” I said.

But Adrian shook his head. “I will never forget the times I spent with you, dreaming. Those are my brightest memories.”

It was late when we left Ana’s bedside. Usually, after executions and funerals, the palace was alive with celebration, but not this night. Tonight, the halls were quiet, a solemn memorial for Violeta.

I worried about returning to our room, thinking of how we’d left it this morning. It felt almost wrong to think about sex in this moment, but it was how I took control of my world, and no matter how dark or terrifying, I needed to reclaim it. “I need you, Adrian,” I said, looking up at him.

He slowed and met my gaze. “I am here.”

“I mean that I want you to make love to me.”

His gaze softened. “Isolde, I—”

“Tell me you do not want me,” I said, stepping closer, though we remained in the hallway, and nowhere near our room or bed. I placed my hands flat on his chest, smoothing them down his stomach, dropping one to touch his arousal. He took a breath, releasing it slow between his lips.

“It is never that,” he said. “You know it is not that.”

“I am well enough,” I said. “The only way you will hurt me now is to refuse me.”

It was not a lie.

He watched me a moment, not so much hesitant as he was discerning.