Aurora did not know when it had been decided that Kiran would be staying with her. Frankly, she was too tired to argue. And she was not sure she would, even if she were fully rested. It had been too long since they had been in the same room alone. Too long since she had been able to just look at him. She wanted that, even if it was not wise.

Zephyr continued, “And thank you, for trusting me with your truth.” Then the water witch was gone, along with all the others, and the door closed, leaving her alone in the quiet with the man who broke her heart and a mother who might never wake.

Kiran leaned back against the door, keeping his distance. That was the safest thing to do, really. If he crossed the room like he wanted to, he would begin by checking Aurora over, because he itched to be certain that she was well. And if he did that, if he touched her, he would want to keep touching her, and he would not be able to remember all the reasons it was a bad idea for them to be together. He would forget all the ways in which he was wrong for her, and she for him, and he would offer himself up in any way she would have him—as friend or comforter or lover, whatever she asked.

So instead he concentrated on the feel of his shoulder blades pressing into the door, and he watched. She removed the heavy hood that covered her hair, along with the high-necked leather brace that hid her secret. He understood why she had told Zephyr, but that did not make him any more comfortable. She did not see herself the way he saw her. She was constantly throwing herself into the midst of things—willing to be the shield for others—but she did not know how easily she could be made a martyr, or a pawn, or a commodity to trade. She was not as naive as she had been when they first met, but she still always assumed the best of people, of this world. Kiran knew better. And he knew it would demolish him if something happened to her because he did not protect her when he could have.

But where did he draw the line between guarding her from harm and guarding himself from her? For there was nothing for him in her world except pain; he knew that with the utmost certainty. As she shook out her starlight hair and stretched her tired limbs, he wondered if he was past the point of caring. Did he really think he could leave her one day? Even if she regained her crown, if the Lockes were removed and the Stormlord no longer a threat, could he walk away and leave her to live a life with him nowhere in it?