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“It’s him or me, Ali.”
“It isn’t that simple,” I say, shaking my head. Fresh tears burn the edges of my vision.
“It is that simple,” he insists, and his voice carries the desperate conviction of a man who believes that love, once declared, should be enough to settle every question that follows. “I have loved you since we were kids, and you love me, I heard what you told him!”
“But I love him too.” The words fall from mouth, and I watch them land on Arlo’s face the way I watched the blade land on the platform below, with the same sickening finality, the same irrevocable damage.
“What do you mean?” he demands, and his anger wavers, exposing something beneath it that is hurt in a way that strength or stubbornness can’t protect. “He’s a vampire, Ali. You don’t love him. He’s just convinced you that you do. You would never choose him over me.”
“I am not choosing,” I whisper, and the inadequacy of the words is devastating because they are true, but they are not enough, and the space between those two things is the space where everything I care about is being torn apart.
I turn from him, unable to deal with any more. I’m sick of constantly being torn in two directions, sick of trying to explain what I can’t understand. Sick of feeling guilty for loving them both.
CHAPTER 53
• Alessia •
BY THE TIME I reach Kylian’s office, the bond has already begun its familiar torment, pulling low in my chest like a second heartbeat that belongs to someone else.
I hate the way it makes my steps quicken and my body lean toward his presence before I even see him.
The sensation builds with each step down the corridor, growing from a whisper to a demand that makes my skin feel too tight and my breath come quicker than it should. I hate that some part of me recognizes him as mine when my mind rebels against the very thought. I hate that I can almost feel his anger as if it were my own.
The heavy wooden door comes into view, and my steps slow, trying to gather myself before I have to see the hurt and anger that I can feel emanating from the bond. Voices filter through the thick wood, muffled but distinct enough to make my hand freeze before knocking.
“You should have kept at least one alive.” Garret’s voice makes my stomach tighten with unease. “Draven will notice when two of his guards don’t return to Emberfall, and he’ll want answers we can’t give because they’re both dead.”
“Draven should have thought about that before sending spies to my kingdom. They crossed into my skies without permission. They flew over my territory. That alone signed their death warrants before they ever touched ground.”
My hand hovers over the door as I process what they’re discussing.
“I understand that,” Garret continues, and I can hear him moving. “But we have no idea how long they were here before we found them, no idea what they might have seen or reported back to their king, and now we have two corpses and no information to show for it.”
“Then perhaps Draven should train his spies better at not getting caught,” Kylian responds, and there’s something cold in his voice that makes me shiver. “Or keep them on shorter leashes if he doesn’t want them straying into territories where they’re not welcome.”
I shouldn’t be eavesdropping on what’s clearly a private conversation about kingdom politics, but I can’t bring myself to leave. Something shifts inside the room, the scrape of boots against the floor and the rustle of paper.
“We need to be careful,” Garret says, his voice lower now but still audible through the door. “The last thing we need is to give the other kingdoms a reason to unite against us, not when things are already so precarious.”
I ease the door open without thinking. The hinges creak softly, and both men turn to look at me with expectant expressions.
Garret is standing near the tall windows that overlook the courtyard, arms folded across his chest, shoulders tight with tension. Kylian is behind his massive desk, and I have to fight not to react to the way the bond flares to life at the sight of him.
Garret straightens, his posture shifting from confrontational to carefully neutral as he glances between us. “I’ll come back later when you’re less occupied.”
“No need for that,” Kylian says. “She isn’t staying, and this isn’t her concern regardless.”
The words cut clean through whatever warmth I gained from his closeness, leaving an ache from his dismissiveness.
The office door opens behind me before I can respond, and I know it’s Eagan. His footsteps are nearly silent as he enters, and when I glance back, his expression is as unreadable as always.
Kylian’s gaze stays fixed on some point past my shoulder as if I’m not worth the effort of eye contact. “Escort her to her room, Eagan.”
Her room. Not ours. Not the bedroom we’ve been sharing since I arrived here. The distinction is deliberate and cruel in the way only Kylian can manage. I hate that it works. His rejection stings worse than any physical blow could.
Eagan inclines his head. “Of course, my king.”
I wait for just a moment longer, hoping Kylian will look at me again, that his cold facade may splinter and crack. But he’s already turning back to his maps, dismissing me as if I’d never entered the room at all.
