“I don’t expect your forgiveness.” Ranka pushed herself into a sitting position, the blanket scratching at her skin, and now it was her turn to hold back tears. “Or your trust. I am owed neither. I deserve neither. But I want you to know, Aramis—I have never regretted anything in my life more than I regret betraying you. I should have buried that axe in Ongrum’s heart, but I wasn’t strong enough. And for that I am so, so sorry. Truly. I have made many mistakes in my life—I have done so many wrongs, have hurt so many people. This was the worst of them. This, more than anything, is what I wish I could take back.”

Aramis’s lips began to tremble.

“But I can’t.” Ranka’s voice broke, and she dug her fingernails into her thigh. “I… have spent so much of my life lost. I’ve always been a weapon, a monster, a threat. And I have never felt worth anything, to anyone. I’m realizing now… some of that was by design. I have lived my life as a girl living lost.” Ranka swallowed. “But I didn’t feel lost with you. I ruined that. And I will never forgive myself.”

Now Aramis was crying, and Ranka was crying too. How badly Ranka wanted to hold her then. How much it stung to know she couldn’t. They remained like that for a long time—wiping furiously at their eyes, Aramis telling Ranka over and over again how angry she was, and Ranka only saying I know, because she did, truly, and she loved Aramis too much to do anything but take every ounce of anger she’d earned.

It was a long time before they quieted. It wasn’t anything like before. They felt like strangers, but the crackling fury had eased. Aramis wiped some of the snot from her nose and looked at the ceiling.

Ranka stood. She took a step forward, and it was more terrifying than any of the steps that had led her through the mines. Slowly, she sat on the edge of the bed.

Aramis scooted back so Ranka had room to sit.

“I loved her,” Ranka said softly. “I know that doesn’t change anything. But the woman you met that night, she is—was—my mother, in every way but blood.”

“Will you be able to do it this time?” Aramis whispered. “Stand up to her?”

I’m begging you to choose yourself.

Even now Percy’s words struck a chord of fear in her. Ongrum had always had a grip on Ranka, had always known how to reel her back in. But that was before the winalin witches. That was before Ongrum had taken dozens of innocent girls and turned them into monsters.

Ranka was learning that even love had its limits.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Princess. This time, I will.”