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“Kyer thinks I can do it.”

“His judgment is more than questionable,” Jarek quipped, accepting he couldn’t keep her happy all night. “To put it bluntly, your life is far more valuable than theirs. I’m sympathetic, but if it can’t happen, then I won’t let it.”

She glowered at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Your continued denial won’t keep you alive, but I will. We go in the armory together, and we leave it together. If things go well, we’ll get the girls.”

Lilith’s lips twisted, clearly bothered by his comments, even though they were correct. Offering some kind of solace, regardless of whether it showed a little of that damned vulnerability, might make her amiable again. She seemed to like it earlier.

“Croll is right. I need to pace the use of the Serpent, or I’ll be of no use to anyone. Considering Caiven is also Diseased, it’s already going to be a challenge getting him still. I will try, but I can’t promise you anything.” Jarek’s gaze fell to an uninteresting knot in the wooden tabletop. “Your cooperation would be appreciated since I’d prefer not to force it.”

“How very kind of you to use common decency, Master Atwood.” The grin she gave him when he looked up couldn’t hide her coppered irritation, but her voice was patiently jesting. “Anything for you.”

Jarek tried not to let the sarcasm annoy him, instead fixating on the way her delicate voice wrapped around that feeling still taking up space in his gut. All either emotion could produce was a grunt from the base of his throat.

Lilith snickered and pushed her chair away from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“To the inn?” She adjusted her coat and pulled a pair of gloves over her hands. “It’s my last chance for a warm bath for a few days.”

Her mood had declined, and he was responsible for it. He meant what he said, but it held him back from jumping up to walk with her.

A moment to himself wouldn’t hurt either.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he told her.

Lilith swept from the table and into the crowd. Only after he was sure she was gone did he drop his head into his palms, exhaustion pouncing like a predator.

Nothing he imagined drifted anywhere close to how relaxed she was about everything. Lilith’s diffidence toward her own predecessor only reaffirmed the damage he’d done. Sparing Keara did nothing if there was no one left to guide her heir. The Ashin people were scattered, and their god was practically nonexistent.

And she still forgave him, after everything.

He never wanted to continue Valen’s history of disdain toward the Evelians, but could he fully separate himself if he was there when it was created? When he had played a hand in it? Can she really live with my mistakes?

He sighed, bumping the back of his head to the frame of the booth. Can I?

Speaking of mistakes… Jarek leaned onto the table, absently rotating his cup over the wood. What was with the staring? And then there were those knots in his stomach. Not anything that pinched, but a subtle discomfort that had him wishing she was still here, batting her lashes and stripping her clothing for his attention instead of someone else’s.

He cringed. There was no way he was attracted to Lilith. She was crass. Reckless. Dishonest. Aggravating. Not to mention an Evelian—

Now his stomach rolled uncomfortably. Of the reasons not to leer at her, the fact that she was related to Keara either mattered significantly or not at all. He didn’t care about her genetics, the color of her soul, or her origins, but he cared about her past, one that he wished was never intertwined with his. He cared about her future enough to know that all this discomfort was pointless in the end because he had no part in it.

Jarek cursed under his breath. Thinking too hard about it didn’t help. He decided he was slightly drunk, and that made Lilith slightly attractive. It’d clear with his head.

He pushed from the table and reluctantly walked out of the tavern—first stopping by the bar and asking for several glasses of water—and into Gridian’s repulsive streets.

The misty beginnings of rainfall soaked the air, only visible when caught in the light of a street lamp. There were too many bodies packed on top of each other, day and night, not to mention the noise and emotions bombarding him on all sides… He almost preferred Failen’s depressing atmosphere.

The Wraith’s presence, which he’d been noting in the back of his mind, vanished. She was close enough that he’d entered the Flare’s blind spot.

Or far away enough she’d wandered off.

He picked apart the crowd with keen and frustrated eyes. Gone on another detour, more than likely looking for darkness knows what in this fucking cesspool—

He caught sight of Lilith between passing bodies—taking wary steps under a canopy coming off a building. Illuminated in more than one shade of light, he noticed her glancing to her right and speaking.

The Serpent rushed under his skin. He picked up his pace only to lose sight of her even as the crowd thinned. He found her again, but this time, fear overwhelmed her aura.