“I was the other guy.”

“And you do look awful.” If he were capable, James might have winked. “Really, Gultin. You’re a gods-crafted disaster.”

The soldier only smiled. “I’d hit you again if I didn’t think it’d kill you.” He spit into the cell for good measure. “Ponce.” And the men closed the gate, leaving Scratch and James alone in the darkness.

Scratch lay, the cool filth of the dungeon soothing her aching skin. Overhead, something drip, drip, dripped onto the clammy floor. Errant scraps of hay littered the cell, the moonlight from the tiny barred window illuminating their jagged edges. On the walls, rusted manacles hung like open mouths.

“Scratch?” James’s bravado was gone. All that remained was threadbare, a tiny voice through busted lips. “What . . . what happened?”

“Jamie.” She wriggled over to him. She couldn’t do much with her hands tied, but she managed to press their bodies together—a filthy, pathetic cuddle. “Oh, hells. This is it, isn’t it?”

“It appears to be.” He sniffled. “I never regretted being disowned before, but now . . .”

“I don’t even think your father could get you out of this one, darling.” She smooshed her face into his shoulder. “I wish he could.”

“It would have to be both of us,” he whispered. “Where you go, I go. Remember?”

“Yes. It seems—” She choked on one sandpaper sob. “It seems that’s the case.”

She had long ago decided that James was the love of her life. If he had liked women and she had liked men, perhaps they could have had the happiest marriage in creation. Then again, maybe their utter lack of desire was what made their love so strong; like without sex all that was left was pure, unadulterated affection.

“What do you think happened to her?” he asked.

She didn’t want to think about Frances, especially after last night. Imagining that piebald girl swept away by villains stung Scratch’s throat like bile. Those keen, wily eyes were too bright for fear, those wicked eyebrows too confident.

Princess Frances was a forest fae in reverse: she didn’t trap you with magic; she cleared the magic from your vision. To step into her realm was to see the world as it was.

She would have been a very good queen.

“I don’t know, Jamie.”

“Were we really the only ones out after curfew? D-do you think we were set up?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” But she had a different thought. It pressed on the inside of her skull like a gnat caught in a lantern. “Jamie, I met Frances today.”

She told him about her unexpected smoke break with the princess. How Frances had, calmly and without cruelty, told Scratch that there was no hope for her. That it wasn’t too late to figure out something else to do with the rest of her life.