This is what we used to be. This connection that transcends thought and choice.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, and she whimpers—that sound she used to make when I touched her just right. My hands tighten in her hair, and hers claw at my back, and for these stolen seconds we're not two people destroyed by loss.
We're just us.
Then reality crashes back. She shoves me away with enough force that I stumble, shadows flaring instinctively to steady myself. When I look at her, she's breathing hard, her lips swollen from my kiss, tears streaming down her face.
"No," she gasps, wiping her mouth. "No, I can't—you don't get to?—"
"Nesilhan—"
"I can't do this." Her voice breaks. "Every time I look at you, I see that night. I see the blood, the choice you had to make. And I know—" She presses her hand to her abdomen. "I know you saved my life. But I can't separate you from the loss."
I feel each word like she's carved them into my chest with a blade, but I don't interrupt.
"I don't expect forgiveness," I say quietly. "I just needed you to know that losing you would destroy me. Watching you walk away, watching the light die in your eyes when you look at me—it's killing me."
She's shaking now, her whole body trembling. "I don't know how to move past this. I don't know if I can."
She turns and walks away, and this time I let her go. Because pushing will only drive her further away.
I stand alone in the garden, my lips still burning with the taste of her, my chest aching. My shadows writhe with barely contained desperation, wanting to go after her, to make her stay.
But that would only prove I haven't learned anything.
The distance between us feels insurmountable. But for a monster who's lost everything else, even the faintest possibility of redemption is worth fighting for.
I spendthe rest of the evening in the war room, reviewing defensive positions with a council of lords who barely hide their contempt.
Lord Riza is particularly insufferable, making pointed comments about "compromised leadership" and "foreign influence" that everyone knows refer to Nesilhan.
"Perhaps," I say with dangerous gentleness, "you'd like to explain to me exactly what you mean by 'compromised leadership,' Riza? Please. I'm fascinated."
He has the intelligence to look nervous. "My lord, I only meant that these are difficult times. The Light Court invasion, the eastern territories' unrest, your personal... losses. Perhaps a more unified front would strengthen our position."
"A unified front." My shadows creep along the floor toward him. "You mean without my wife. Say what you mean, Riza, or get out of my war room."
"Of course not, my lord. I merely suggest?—"
"You suggest nothing. You imply everything and commit to nothing, like the coward you are." I let the shadows wrap around his ankles. "If you have concerns about my leadership, state them clearly. Otherwise, focus on the actual enemy at our borders."
The silence that follows is deeply satisfying.
After the council finally disperses, I find myself on the palace's highest balcony, looking east toward territories I haven't visited in decades.
"You look contemplative," Emir says, joining me.
"I'm calculating how many ways this can end in disaster," I reply. "Current count is fifteen."
"Optimistic tonight, are we?" Emir leans against the railing. "I'd say twenty, minimum."
"The extra five involve Nesilhan discovering exactly how paranoid I've become about threats to her safety and deciding I'm too dangerous to stay with."
"Ah. So certainties, not possibilities."
I don't laugh, but it's close. "She'll leave me, Emir. Not tomorrow, maybe not even this year. But eventually. Once the war ends, once she finds a way to be free of me—she'll go. And I'll have to let her."
"Will you?"
