A knot like a hot stone formed in my throat. “Grace of Love forgive me. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“No.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you did. Thank the Graces you finally did.”

I shook my head. “It’s easy to say that now, but when you’re freezing in some drafty fortress in the Witchwall Mountains, you may feel differently.” I pressed the heel of my free hand into an eye that threatened to become too damp. “Or even if my mother gives us some license because I was dying—even if she doesn’t send you away—it doesn’t change the basic truth, Marcello. I don’t get to choose whom I court. Not based on my own personal preference, anyway.”

“But we’ve come through so much together.” Marcello’s eyes brightened suspiciously. Grace of Mercy, don’t cry. “Surely your mother—”

“It’s not my mother’s decision.” I reached out and laid trembling fingers on his lips, to stop any words that might break my resolve. Their soft warmth sent a tingling up my arm more profound than Ruven’s magic. “It’s mine. I am a daughter of the Serene City, Marcello. I can’t be selfish in this.” The hurt in his eyes made my throat ache. I couldn’t stop myself from whispering, “No matter how much I want to.”

His lips moved against my fingers. “Are you saying we can never—”

“Never is a long time.” I forced a smile, but something broke through like sunlight inside me, and suddenly it wasn’t forced after all. “We’re both alive. That’s a good place to start. And as you say, we’ve overcome a lot together. Perhaps you’ll turn out to be a secret prince of lost Celantis. Or perhaps my mother will disinherit me.”

He returned a faint echo of my smile. “I’ve learned not to doubt your capabilities, my lady. I have faith you can find a less dramatic solution.”

Footsteps approached, more forceful than Ciardha’s noiseless tread. The door burst open. Marcello leveled his flintlock at the intruder.

“Oh, put your pistol back in your trousers,” Zaira said, smirking. “If I wanted her dead, she’d be dead.”

Marcello settled back into his chair with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” I said. “For saving my life.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Zaira’s smile faded, and she dropped into a chair by my bed. “Too bad about Ignazio.”

Something twisted in my gut. After all he’d done, he was still family. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet, that I know of. No, I meant too bad he turned out to be a conniving ass.”

“That’s hardly your fault.”

“He’s being held at the garrison for now,” Marcello said. “They’re going to bring him back to Raverra for trial by the Council of Nine.”