“My fight is with Lir.” Anger bubbled through her veins. Everything inside her cried out for Lir’s blood. She wanted him dead. For her parents. For Pi’s parents. For Redtooth and Lace and Triple. And for Donnally, who he’d stolen from her. Twice.

“We both know that isn’t true,” Oran said with a humorless smile. “I think you have a habit of convincing yourself your goals are smaller than they are. This fight didn’t end with Aric and it certainly won’t end with Lir. Not if your goal isn’t the person but the system they’ve created.”

That was nearly impossible to believe. There might be other threats, but no one would ever supplant Lir in Caledonia’s mind. Not even Aric had loomed as large. Lir would always be the burning core of her anger. “No one matters as much as Lir.”

At this, Oran shook his head lightly. “Maybe that’s what it feels like. Anger can do that. Rage can do that. Make you feel small when you are anything but. You, Caledonia, are bigger than your anger.”

She wasn’t sure that she was. For five turns, she’d kept her anger close and bright. It was like smoldering embers, a constant, quiet pain buried deep in her heart. Most of the time, she kept it under control, but sometimes it burned too hot and all she could think about was Lir.

“I don’t know how long that’s going to last,” she said sadly.

Oran leaned in to cup her face between his palms, bending close to whisper, “I know you. And you will make it last long enough to get this done. Just—just make sure there’s something left for after.”

Her cheeks warmed and she felt the constant pressure of her worries becoming less under his touch. “You mean something left for you?”

“Yes.” He tipped forward and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, lightly kissing before pulling away. He kissed her again and Caledonia let him lure her from the swift current of her anger.

“How do you know you’ll still want whatever that is?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Because I love you.”

The words seemed to surprise them both. Caledonia pulled away sharply.

Oran watched her with a steady, unflinching gaze. Expectant and somehow also resigned to whatever she said next. As if now that he’d said the words, he knew their truth and was ready to accept whatever she said in return.

“Oran,” she said and then there were no more words. Her heart beat a hasty, incomprehensible rhythm in her chest and her mind refused to settle on any single thought. Did she love him? How did he love her? Why had he chosen this moment to say it? When she was unprepared. Had considered no course, no strategy, no possible means of response.