“She— It’s—” He broke off, cursed, ran a hand over his face, wincing as the move tugged at his abdomen. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “It’s not really her. It’s the angeldust. She has a problem with it, sometimes takes too much. Too often. When that happens, she forgets who she is, gets confused, loses control.”

Compassion rose within Kiva, dousing her earlier fury. All of it.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but it was clear Jaren wasn’t lying. It also explained why he wouldn’t take poppymilk or any other addictive drug. He’d seen what they could do when used incorrectly. He’d felt the effects. He lived with the scars.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he got in first.

“Please,” he rasped out. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like I’m broken.”

Kiva didn’t think he was broken. After everything she’d learned about him, she thought he just might be one of the strongest people she knew.

And that terrified her.

“Come on,” she said, rising to her feet and holding out her hand. “We should get going.”

Jaren stared at her fingers as if they would bite.

“You’re not saying anything,” he said.

“I just said something,” Kiva returned. “I said we should—”

“About my mother. My scars.”

Kiva looked down at him. “Do you want me to say something?” she asked. “Do you want me to tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through that? That I can’t imagine how hard it must have been? That I think it’s incredible you can separate the drug from the user and still care about your mother enough to want to protect her?”

Jaren’s throat bobbed.

Kiva moved her hand closer to him, and this time he took it, allowing her to help him painfully to his feet. He swayed and tried to get his balance, her arms automatically coming around him to help steady him as she continued, “I can tell you all that, but I think you already know. Or at least, I hope you do.” She paused, but made herself finish, “I can also tell you that if she isn’t already getting help, then you need to get it for her.”

Jaren’s hands had come to rest on her waist as he’d tried to get his feet under him, but at Kiva’s words, even though she’d just begun to pull away, he drew her back again, curling his arms tightly around her back, until he was embracing her fully.

“Thank you,” he said in her ear, his voice rough with emotion.