Rorn rounded the base of the stairwell, Rollins and Jyll, the war general who’d replaced my father, at his side. Then he halted with his back to us.

Slowly, Rorn turned. His lips parted, and his eyes narrowed. He looked back and forth between us, the greeting more of a question. “Ladies?”

I offered Carelda a thankful smile as I brushed my fingers over Helvectus’s soft hair, his babbles following me back to the infirmary.

I’d expected Rorn to see to his son and his lover, being that he and Carelda seemed to have formed some type of stilted arrangement for the betterment of Helvectus.

And I needed time to process, to steal away to the library in search of this nonsensical swan business. For if Rorn believed in it enough to trust we were indeed experiencing a reprieve, perhaps even an end to the bloodshed, then maybe there was something to it after all.

One thing was certain—whoever this swan was, they evidently were not mortal. Which meant Marvis and his soldiers had potentially taken their bloodlust to another fae-inhabited continent.

“Bloom.”

Shocked that he’d dared to follow me when he’d given up on me months ago, it felt as if I were pushing against an invisible tide to turn and face my husband. If I happened upon him in the towers, then I would head in the opposite direction. That was if he didn’t redirect himself first.

It wasn’t out of fear. It wasn’t because I couldn’t stomach seeing him.

It was because I no longer had it within me—the energy to battle—to so much as exist near him. But time away from him hadn’t made it any more bearable. My heart dragged, and my body coiled as I fought the instinct to flee.

Rorn swallowed, his throat bobbing, and spoke before I gave in to the urge. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

His eyes dipped over me. “You are looking somewhat better.”

My brows jumped high.

Rorn cursed. “Apologies, I just…” I waited, having nothing to say and no desire to make this easier for him. His teeth flashed with his slight huff of laughter. “It would seem you still leave me without proper words.” He stared, perhaps waiting, but it was in vain.

He excelled at sweet nothings, but I’d learned that was all they were.

“I miss you,” he finally said on a ragged exhale, his shoulders lowering. “Stars, I miss you dreadfully.”

“I miss you too,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. It also didn’t mean that anything would change.

I missed the lie I’d once lived so blissfully, believing it was fated magic. Some days, I’d find myself staring at the dining hall, the gardens, and even the doors to our rooms, aching with nostalgia. Aching with a vengeance that made me quiver with the need to scream until my lungs bled.