“I have no reason to live without her.”

I spat on the floor. “Nothing to live for? What of your family? Your friends? Your cause? Does none of that matter to you anymore?” I stormed forward until we were eye to eye, inches apart. “Before Anaïs. Before the twins. Before the half-bloods, there existed an idea between you and me about how we could change our world for the better. This has always been as much your cause as mine.”

He looked away first. “Don’t stand there and pretend you’d be any better if Cécile died. I watched you throw away everything to save her.”

“Because she could be saved! I’ll not claim that what I did was right, but at least it had purpose. Your death has none. It won’t bring Pénélope back. And if Cécile were to die and I survived long enough to listen, I’d hope you’d say the same thing to me.”

I balled my fists until my wrists screamed and forced me to relax them. “There is more to my life than just her. There are other people I care for. Causes that matter.” I drew in a deep breath. “She walks as close to the line of death as Pénélope ever did, and there are times I question why we do this to ourselves. Why we tie our fate so closely to one person that everything we are, everything we do, hangs upon them. It seems a cruel thing that we lose not only the one we love most, but also the opportunity to endure. To finish the things we’ve started.”

My anger fled, and I suddenly felt bone-weary. “I do not know what her death would do to me, whether I’d have the will to carry on.” I concentrated on the pain in my wrists, trying to focus my thoughts. “I cannot imagine life without her, but at the same time, I hate the thought that what we’ve started in Trollus might go unfinished. It seems such a wretched waste.”

Neither of us said anything for a long time, the activity of the mines the only sound to break the silence.

“I’m sorry for the pain my choices caused you,” I said. “But I cannot seem to regret them.” Pushing past him, I started toward the lift.

“That’s it?” he shouted after me. “You’re just going to wash your hands of what you’ve done and leave my mind to turn as twisted and broken as the rest of me?”

I stopped, but I didn’t turn around. I was afraid that if I looked at him, I’d lose my nerve, the fragile confidence I had in the truth my own fears had revealed to me.

“It’s not up to me anymore, Marc,” I said. “If you find reason inside yourself to live, your will and your word might cease to be at odds and your mind once again be whole. Or you can pine away for death and let the madness grow until my father orders you put down. The choice is yours.”