She could not stop the gusts of weeping that wracked her over and over. Once she lost control, the viper probed and pushed and finally slipped, burning, out of her wrist, nosing past sleeve and hem to tumble, writhing, to the ground. It sped downward, the final broken piece of her, racing away, abandoning her. Or returning home. The viper slithered into the Pall. And then it, too, was lost to sight. Gone.

Soon, Kem would be gone, too. He was already halfway out the door. As he needed to be … and yet, how could she bear it?

All of them gone. Gone. Gone. All she could do was sob, she who had never shed a single tear. Shaking, shuddering, crushed, hands covering her face because she could no longer bear to look at the world.

“Aunt?”

She imagined Kem’s whisper—ignored it, because the idea of his voice was just a pointless craving. It was the whisper of the Spore, the bait that drew you in. Kem hated her now. She’d lied to him, and he’d turned his back, and she couldn’t even blame him.

“Aunt Elen.” No, he was here. He crouched beside her and draped a blanket over her shoulders. “You can’t stay out here. You need to come inside where it’s warm.”

Her heart was cold. It was dead without the viper. The monster was part of her, woven into her. Without it, she was withering, emptied, no longer her full self.

What did it matter anyway? The haunt was gone because he’d made the honorable choice. If he hadn’t, if he’d decided to stay in the prince’s body, then that would have been worse. The doors shut in both directions. He’d done what he had to do.

Even knowing this, she couldn’t bear to move. What if the shadow reappeared and she wasn’t here to greet him? To just see him, even if they two could never speak to each other again? What if the viper had gone to find him? What if? What if? What if? Hope was a liar, so she’d trained herself to love what was present around her and let the rest go. To live where her feet were placed.

Why would these tears not stop? Had he heard her last words to him? Did it matter if he hadn’t?

Kem sighed, plopped down next to her, and rearranged the blanket so it wrapped around the two of them together, snuggling them in tight, the way she and Ao would snuggle their little child between them on a wintry night and sit peaceably to watch the snow fall.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll wait out here with you until you’re ready to come in.”