“You didn’t help matters by doing nothing this past year,” Aiden said quietly. “You not only gave the Clans the excuses they wanted to justify doing nothing to protect Sylvalan, you continued to encourage those excuses, even though you knew who the witches were. You were the one who insisted the Daughters of the House of Gaian were no more than servants whose purpose was to serve, and service, the Fae.”

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” Lucian said bitterly as he turned to face Aiden. “You’re not alone, are you, Bard? You have the woman who matters to you. You can hold her, talk to her, feel the pleasure of her under you at night. You don’t have the anger of grief and the guilt of failure haunting your nights. Well, I do.” He turned back to the fireplace, his voice now filled with sorrow. “I do. When Morag offered me that damned bargain, I almost took it, almost offered my life in exchange. But I had a duty to the Fae.” He laughed grimly. “Look what my duty has brought me.”

Aiden stood up, a sick feeling rolling through him. “What are you talking about?”

“Ari.” Lucian put his hands on the mantel, letting his arms take his weight as he sagged in defeat. “I’m talking about Ari.”

Aiden took a step forward, unsure what to do. Lyrra held his heart, and if something happened to her because of something he hadn’t done, the grief would crush him. He knew that. But…“I know you cared for Ari,” he said carefully, “but I never suspected it was more than you’ve felt for any other lover.”

“Why should you have suspected anything?” Lucian’s voice broke. “She sent me away. Did you know that? I was no longer welcome at her cottage because she had decided to marry that…human. So I wasn’t close enough when the Black Coats came. I wasn’t fast enough to save her.”

Aiden raked a hand through his hair. Something wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right. “If you cared for her, why have you fought against helping other witches?”

“Because I couldn’t stand knowing that Ari died because I had failed. And there you were with your eloquent pleas and demands to protect the witches, constantly reminding me of the woman I had lost, shoving it down my throat until I was sure I would choke on it. So I dismissed their importance, denied what they are. I couldn’t seem to do anything else.”