Aramis snorted and said something too soft for Ranka to make out. She forced herself to draw away, Percy’s words still churning through her mind.

It was nearly midnight when the door creaked open and Percy stepped out. “Need a break?”

Ranka shrugged. She’d spent entire nights like this, sitting in silence somewhere in Skra territory, eyes on the horizon. “Not really.”

“Let’s try that again—you need to sleep.” When Ranka didn’t move, he crossed his arms and glared. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but we have to try to uncoup a coup in two days. This is the last break we’re going to get.”

“I can sleep out here—”

“Oh, for the love of—she’s not going to bite you. Go get some rest, you useless oaf.”

“Watch who you’re calling oaf, oaf.”

“I am not an oaf,” Percy said primly. “I am annoying.”

Ranka glared at him but rose all the same.

He waved dismissively at her and settled himself on the kitchen table, eyes trained on the door. Reluctantly Ranka turned away, and she made her way into the back room, where Aramis waited.

65

THE PRINCESS WAS ASLEEP.

If Percy thought Ranka was going to sleep next to Aramis, she had an icehouse in the desert to sell to him. She crept into the room and lay down on the floor, as far away from Aramis as she could manage.

“Comfortable?”

Ranka went rigid. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

Aramis sat up, barely visible in the gloom.

Ranka cleared her throat. “I can sleep outside—”

“I’m not going to make you sleep in the street like a rat,” Aramis snapped. “Here.” She snatched a threadbare blanket from the bed and tossed it at her. Ranka shrugged it around her shoulders. It was warm from Aramis’s touch. Ranka tried not to think about why it made her dizzy.

A few days ago things had finally been easy between them, had been gentle and warm and good.

Now Aramis could barely stand to speak to her.

And could she blame her? After what Ranka had done, it was a miracle Aramis hadn’t tried to strangle her yet.

They stared at each other. If the gods were real, then they were particularly cruel, because even exhausted, even bloodied and bruised, Aramis Sunra was still the most magnetic person Ranka had ever laid eyes on.

Ranka wanted to say she was sorry. She wanted to know if she died tomorrow if any of this would matter at all. But she was beyond deserving any answers from Aramis, so instead she lay back down.

But Aramis didn’t.

“What you said earlier,” Aramis said. “About not expecting there to be an after for you—you meant that?”

“Ongrum is a skilled warrior, and without my blood-magic… I don’t know.”

“How can you say that so calmly?”