“At least one of the Trees must be physically present for a splitting to work. The Tree of Souls would work, but it’s physically disappeared. And considering the Glass Tree is being hoarded in Windonhigh by the witches, the Bone Tree is our only hope.” She looks to Lucien. “The book said it would act as a large-depth anchor for the splitting spell.”

Lucien muses this over, chin in his hand. “Right—because otherwise the cast radius would be impossible.”

we will not be split again, the hunger snarls soundlessly at them.

“If I’m understanding this right, we’re bound for the Dark Below,” I say. “And we have to lure Varia there.”

“Not without me.” Yorl’s voice. We turn to see him drying his paws on the bonfire. “I have my grandfather’s guidebook from his ventures there. I know the safest ways in and out.”

“I doubt that,” Malachite sneers.

“And you do, Mal?” Lucien looks at him with one brow quirked. “You haven’t been back for a decade.”

“A beneather never forgets the Dark, Your Highness.” Malachite drawls his title. “I can guide you better than the furball can.”

Yorl’s teeth start to show, and I pipe up cheerily.

“Or both of you can work together to guide us doubly safely down there!”

Yorl and Malachite glare at each other, but Yorl relents first with a twitch of his whiskers.

“Fine. We could use your sense of hearing, regardless.”

Malachite’s almost taken aback, and his shoulders relax as he snorts. “Your sense of smell’s better than mine, anyway. Useful for the bloodbats.”

“Ah, true love.” I wink at Fione. She giggles behind her hand, and for a blissful moment on the beach, me in Lucien’s arms, a plan on the horizon, Varia beaten back, this feels like peace. An echo of it, a tantalizing promise of things to come. For them.

For all of them.

They have a plan.

And so do I.

I look up at the prince, cupping his cheek. “You protected me. All of you.”

Lucien’s eyes crinkle, and he leans down, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “And you trusted us to. Thank you.”

I don’t tell Lucien on that night-lit beach, but I tell it to myself in the days afterward: it’s not about trust.

What comes next for me isn’t about trust. And not telling Lucien, or any of them, isn’t at all like what I did in Vetris after I was discovered as a Heartless. This is different. This isn’t us forced apart, forcing one another apart—it’s my road leading one way and theirs the other. It feels more peaceful than pushing them away for their own good ever did. This isn’t me pushing them away at all. It’s us walking the same path together, for as long as we can.