I cave. Finn’s bathroom is equipped with a large bathtub with bronze dragon talons on the base. I feel numb as I peel off myclothes, then start the bath and comb out my hair. It’s gotten so much longer since I arrived at the castle.
I soak in the bath until the water turns cold. I know Finn’s waiting for me outside, and maybe that’s why I take so long. I sense where this moment is headed, the crossroads we’re approaching. He may not want to kill me, but I have to be prepared with all of the reasons I still need to leave. It’s the least that I owe him. This is going to crush me; I can only assume it will destroy him.
I take my time drying. I don’t skip the chance to raid the assortment of lotions and balms. I lather slowly, and once I’m dried and perfumed, I feel calmer than I have in days. I pad back out to his room with a towel wrapped around me.
Finn is snoring on top of the bed, still wearing his Frumentari uniform. There are dark circles under his eyes, and I wonder how much he’s slept since the attack.
I creep gently toward him, focusing on small, quiet movements that won’t disturb his sleep. I pick up a quilt from a chair and carry it over, then curl up beside him, drawing the curve of my body against the hard line of his back. When I tuck my head against his neck and focus on the thrumming, I can count his heartbeats.
Stolen time. That’s all I’ll ever get, it seems. Our impending severance hangs overhead like the blade of a guillotine, but I’m trying very hard not to think about it. Right now, I’m dividing my life into minutes and seconds. I want to savor the remaining ones with Finn. I am stepping into the daydream one more time, fantasizing about a world where we’re together.
It’s not long before I drift off, too.
I wake up to the sounds of Finn stoking the fire. I’m still in his chambers. Blearily, I study the room. It’s still dark out. The firelight casts wobbling shadows over everything.
“Hey,” Finn says, noticing my movement. He crosses to the bed.
My voice is thick from sleep. “Sorry. I dozed off.”
“It’s all right. I think we both needed that.”
He hesitates. Marking the indecision, I lift my quilt and pat the spot next to me. “Come here.”
The blankets rustle as Finn crawls in, and his warmth envelops me. His face is shadowed as he rests his head on the pillow, his gaze undressing me.
“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” Finn repeats. “I need you to know that. I’d feel exactly the same if you were a human. I love you, Lyria. Nothing else matters.”
I love you.
Those words are all I’ve been aching to hear. I just can’t ignore the ones that followed.
“Maybe nothing mattered in the cottage,” I say, swallowing. I push down the rising swell of magic. “Maybehere”—I gesture between us—“nothing matters inthisspace. But I can’t outrun who I am. And I’m not going to be able to hide it forever.”
“But you could,” Finn protests, angling up on his elbow. “You’ve been doing it this long! There are surgeries for your ears. No one would have to know about your magic. We could keep your secret together.”
I bristle at the picture he tries to paint. I draw back slowly from him, recoiling. “So, I’d pretend to be human for the rest of my life?”
“Or not!” he amends quickly. “Maybe just for the time being? We could come forward once it’s safe.”
My Talent swells, the heat changing, shifting, like wildfyre. That’s not love. That’s putting me on a shelf. Keeping me waiting for a future that may never arrive.
“Our marriage would benefit all the Midlands,” he continues. “You could change minds. We could demonstrate a better future, together.”
I don’t believe him. His words are too little, too late, and his confidence is fragile. I see a crack in his armor, and I hear the tremor of doubt in his speech. Finn’s not sure if he can manage this politically. He’s desperate to keep me—to control me? Cherish me? Protect me? I can’t be sure—but he’s desperate to do right by his father, too. I can see his internal debate.Lyria or the throne? Love or my father?
The offerI’vebeen given is to either marry Finn and wait indefinitely for Rodrick to die, or fight like hell for the Crown, neither of which sounds appealing.
The gloves are off, so I go for the jugular. “What about your father? Willheapprove of the wedding?” I let hurt leak into my voice—laying the sarcasm on thick. “Will his views be transformed after he learns the truth about his daughter-in-law?”
Finn swallows, straining the muscles in his neck. “You know I don’t agree with my father’s views. He’s never going to accept magic, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“That would sound more convincing if it wasn’t coming from thecaptain of the Frumentari.”
“I shouldnothave to tell you that life is complex,” he retorts. “I’m not evil by default! I’m not the man my father is! This isn’t heroes and villains. It’s ridiculous I have to argue that!” Finn’s head drops. “You saw what they did to my brother. I didn’t start this fight, I’m just stuck trying to finish it. I want to believe there’s a world where you and I can come out on the other side of this. But that requires playing my cards right.”
I cross my arms. “Is that politics or evasion?”
“It’s patience.”
