Mira stares at me for a long moment, her expression cycling through disbelief, frustration, and something that looks almost like pity. Then she grabs my shoulders—gently, careful not to press on any of the fresh bruises—and turns me to face her.
"You're going to tell me everything," she says firmly. "Right now. Starting with what happened at the Masquerade."
I open my mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes stops me cold.
So I tell her.
All of it.
How Lorenth appeared out of nowhere when that other xaphan grabbed me. How he was different—controlled, intense, like a storm held barely in check. How we danced and talked and wandered through the festival together, and how every moment felt like stepping into some kind of dream I didn't want to wake from.
How the Nashai said she could sense our bond.
How Lorenth pulled me into that lantern-lit garden and admitted he felt something pulling at him, something he couldn't explain or ignore.
How I kissed him first.
How he made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling—safe and wanted andseenin a way I haven't felt since before my uncle sold me to Darian. Probably ever.
How we made love, and it was nothing like what I've endured with my husband. It was gentle and fierce all at once, and for the first time in years, I felt like I mattered to someone.
And then how I ran.
Because the bells were ringing and daybreak was coming and I knew—Iknew—that if I stayed, if I let myself believe for even a second that this could be real, it would destroy me when it inevitably ended.
By the time I finish, my cheeks are wet and my voice is hoarse, and Mira is staring at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Senna," she says softly. "He's your soulmate."
The word hits me like a slap.
"No." I shake my head, hard enough to make my vision swim. "No, that's—that's not possible. The Nashai was wrong. She had to be wrong."
"She wasn't wrong." Mira's voice is gentle but unyielding. "You just described a soul bond, Senna. The pull. The feeling like you couldn't stop touching each other. The way everything feltrightwhen you were together." She squeezes my shoulders again. "That's not just attraction. That's fate."
"Fate doesn't exist."
"You don't believe that."
And she's right. I don't.
Because I felt it. Felt the way Lorenth's soul reached for mine in that garden, felt the way my own soul answered without hesitation. Felt the wrongness that's been gnawing at me ever since I ran—like something vital has been ripped away and I'm just walking around with a gaping hole in my chest.
I press my palm against my sternum, where that hollow ache has lived for two weeks, and fresh tears spill over.
"It doesn't matter," I whisper. "I'm married, Mira. And even if I wasn't—even if Darian didn't exist—what kind of life could Ihave with him? He lives in New Solas. I live here. He's xaphan nobility, and I'm?—"
"You're good enough for him," Mira cuts in fiercely. "Don't you dare say you're not."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yes, it is." She moves her hands from my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You've spent so long being told you're worthless that you actually believe it. But you're not, Senna. You're kind and smart and brave, and you deserve better than what Darian gives you."
The kindness in her voice cracks something inside me, and I choke on a sob.
"He beat me," I whisper. "When he dragged me home. He—he saw me with Lorenth and he lost it. Worse than usual. And I just—I just let it happen because fighting back only makes it worse."
Mira's face goes pale, her jaw tightening. "How bad?"
