"Sneaking off to see him, are you? That godsdamn xaphan?"
I'd tried to tell him I was only going to help Mira with Ash. That Lorenth was surely gone by now, back to the city where he belonged. But Darian didn't believe me. He never believes me.
This is the first time I haven't been telling the truth.
His hand had come down fast, catching me across the face before I could flinch away.
And then Lorenth wasthere.
I curl my fingers tighter into his tunic, feeling the rough fabric beneath my palms. Real. Solid. Not some desperate fantasy I conjured to escape the nightmare my life has become.
"Where are we going?" My voice comes out small, muffled against his coat.
"Somewhere we can talk." His tone is controlled, but I can hear the fury simmering beneath it. Feel it in the tension of his muscles, the way his wings shift restlessly against his back. "Somewhere private."
The forest swallows us as he strides through the trees, boots crunching over fallen leaves and twigs. I risk a glance up at his face—all sharp angles and fierce concentration, jaw clenched so tight I wonder if his teeth ache.
He's furious.
But not at me.
The distinction matters. With Darian, I can never tell when the rage will turn my direction. What small thing I'll do to set him off. But with Lorenth... even as angry as he clearly is, I'm not afraid.
I should be. Should be terrified of what he might do, of the power coiled in his frame and the violence I just witnessed. But all I feel is safe.
Which is ridiculous. Insane. I barely know him.
Except that's not true, is it? The bond—whatever Serai called it at the Masquerade—knows him. My soul reaches for his the same way it did that night under the lanterns, desperate and yearning and so damn tired of being alone.
Lorenth slows as we reach a small clearing, sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead to dapple the forest floor. He setsme down carefully, keeping his hands on my waist until my feet are steady beneath me.
Then he cups my face, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
Those storm-blue eyes blaze with an anger so fierce it steals my breath. But his touch is gentle, thumbs brushing carefully over my cheekbones like he's afraid I'll shatter. Heat flares under his hand and I feel my bruised cheek from yesterday healing from his magic.
"You cannot go back to him."
Not a question. A statement. Final and absolute.
I open my mouth to argue, to explain why it's not that simple, but he keeps going.
"This marriage you have—it doesn't mean anything. Not when we're meant to be together. Not when I can feel your soul calling to mine and every godsdamn instinct I have is screaming at me to keep you safe. Not when he treats you likethat."
The words knock the air from my lungs. I want to believe him. Gods, I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
But hope is dangerous. Hope gets you hurt.
"Marriage," I hear myself say, and a bitter laugh escapes me. "What I have with Darian is a disgrace to that word."
His brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his expression.
The laughter turns harsher, edged with something that tastes like acid. "That's not a marriage. That's ownership. He treats me like a whipped animal—something to use when it suits him and beat when it doesn't."
The words spill out before I can stop them, ugly and raw and true. Maybe because I want Lorenth to know why I did what I did, that I don't feel guilty about what happened between us.
Lorenth's expression goes stormy, the gold rings around his pupils flaring bright. His hands tighten fractionally on my face, and for half a second I tense, old instincts kicking in.
But he doesn't hurt me. Just holds me there, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
