A deeper warmth ignites, fed by their shared history and the way the cherished angles of his glimmering green face are highlighted by the moon’s purple glow.

Thierren takes her hand, a spark of affection firing in their locked eyes as they both attempt to ignore the glares Sparrow can feel boring into them, unfriendly murmurs rising up from the packed tables. Thierren glances out over the river, his gaze sliding up the mountains and fixing there, his mouth turning down in a troubled frown, and Sparrow can tell he’s having similar thoughts about what’s coming for the East.

“We should fight with them,” Thierren says as he stares west.

“You’re about to,” Sparrow says, confused by his pronouncement.

He turns to her. “I mean the Dryad Fae. There are never any of them among the refugees who are streaming in. Have you noticed that?” He peers northwest. “But they’re out there. In the Northern Forest, most likely. The Gardnerians seemed sure of it. They’ll go after them, if they haven’t already.” Thierren’s gaze turns haunted, and Sparrow can tell he’s thinking of the massacre he witnessed in the farthest northeastern reaches of Gardneria, not one Fae left alive.

Sparrow’s grip on his hand tightens, this thing between them so much more than their physical attraction. She loves the traumatized thing inside Thierren that has solidified into rebellion.

Because that same thing lives inside of her.

A kinship was forged the night she first laid eyes on Thierren, so many months ago. The night she and Effrey fled by boat from the Fae Islands to the continent, braving the stormy ocean and kraken, and hid in Thierren’s family’s deserted horse stables in Gardneria. Thierren had stumbled in, strung-out on nilantyr and spirits.

Sparrow recklessly stopped him from incinerating himself with Magefire that night. Convinced him that there was another path. Another way to channel the guilt and despair that was eating him alive.

Rebellion.

Full-blown rebellion.

“Convince the Vu Trin to find the Dryad Fae,” she urges as tears sting her eyes. “Then fight with them.”

Thierren’s eyes gleam with his own tears as he meets her gaze and nods.

“But give me tonight,” Sparrow insists, able to absorb his intensity because she understands his darkness. Understands the tortured side of him that’s seen too much. “And kiss me,” Sparrow says. “Right here. In full view of the city.”

Thierren’s eyes widen a trace. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You’ll harm your place here if we’re that open about this.”

Defiance sparks in Sparrow’s eyes. “I had to hide my true self for far too long in the West. No more. The Eastern Realm needs to come to terms with me, not the other way around.”

An ardent warmth lights his gaze. “I love you, Sparrow.”