Anger quickly replaces my shame, and I almost slap him. “I never seduced you. If anything, it was the opposite.”

“That’s ridiculous. I worked hard to maintain appropriate boundaries.”

“So did I!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Michael’s impassioned gaze moves from my face to the wall. “We have a job to do. From what Korach said, it sounds like you attempted to dissuade them from coming here?”

I nod, staring at our matching closed-off expressions in the reflection of the dark glass, the passing flicker of glowing fungi a sinister parody of romantic candlelight.

“Me too,” he says, all businesslike. “I only agreed to free them if they committed to never dismiss my concerns for my people’s safety again.”

That may be so, but he still let them keep Hilde.

The ride seems endless as we silently fidget next to each other.

When Michael speaks again, it’s practically a whisper. “When Prometheus put me in touch with Korach, I accepted his offer because of you. You’re the one who told me to stop making excuses and do something. And you were right.”

I did tell him that. But I would never have wanted him to betray his friends and family or willingly be part of activities that I can’t stomach the thought of being a part of myself. The fact that he had that in him at all means that his kind and loyal persona was all a mask.

He lifts his hand to chew his thumbnail, and I instinctively reach to stop him. We both still as our hands touch.

I speak before I can stop myself. “Why does this hurt so much?”

He releases a long breath and says, “Because we lied to each other, and trust is lost.”

I turn my face so he doesn’t see me cry.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly. He steps closer and tilts my chin back toward him, then swipes his thumb across my wet cheek. “Part of me thinks this is all an act, yet I can’t bear to see you cry.”

My body reacts to him as someone familiar, something it wants. It hasn’t caught up with what my mind and heart know to be true. He steps even closer, and I don’t push him away, not when he cups my face in his hand, not when he skims his thumb across my bottom lip. Not when he leans into my ear and breathes, “Maybe being on the same side isn’t such a bad thing.”

For a second I almost believe him. Almost forget that we aren’t actually on the same side. My lips tingle with the memory of his mouth, my body primed to slip right back to where we left off.

I could rise on my toes and kiss him now. I could do the very thing he’s just accused me of doing and use our connection to secure his trust.