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FOR WEEKS NOW, I’ve opened my eyes to the same ache in my chest.

The restless energy feels like something is trying to claw its way out as I await his bite and then his dismissal. This morning, there’s nothing. The absence is so complete that I lie perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe too deeply in case I disturb whatever temporary reprieve I’ve been given.

Everything looks exactly as it should, exactly as it was when I finally managed to fall asleep after another night of pacing, of pressing my hands against my chest, trying to ease that constant ache. But the ache isn’t there. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, my body feels like it belongs to me again.

I should be relieved. I should take this gift of normalcy and run with it before it disappears. Instead, I find myself searching for the feeling, prodding at the spaces where it usually lives, like tonguing a sore tooth to confirm the pain is really gone. Even the air in the room feels different, as if whatever weight has been pressing down on everything has lifted while I slept.

It’s not peace, exactly. This is more like a pause, a held breath between one moment and the next, and somewhere deep in my bones, I know it won’t last.

Reluctantly I move, and the heat I hadn’t even realized was wrapped around me vanishes so abruptly it steals my breath. One second I’m cocooned in warmth, and the next, I’m drowning in cold again.

The emptiness rushes back with a vengeance, and I feel that dreaded tug grow stronger.

Peering around, I see my clothes draped over the chair. Eagan must have come by. I dress mechanically, moving about the room on autopilot. When I’m ready for the day, I sit on the bed and wait for Kylian to enter, like he does every morning.

After he helped me control my magic, I thought things would be different, but he still won’t talk to me, and I no longer know what to say to fix things. I’ve been letting him feed and leave, but I can’t get that night out of my head. Had he not intervened, I know I could have killed Arlo. Why he stopped me is confusing. It would have been so easy to let me lose control. I could have killed him, and Kylian would have been free of the one man he hates. Maybe I’ll never know the truth.

After half an hour has passed, I peer at the door in confusion, realizing how much I crave these awkward morning interactions. When it’s clear he isn’t coming, I force myself to move while trying to hide my disappointment.

The door handle is cold under my palm. I pause, taking a step back for a moment as I peer at the door. The ornate brass handle is gone, and in its place is a shiny silver one. Did someone replace it while I slept? And why?

I shake my head in confusion and step into the corridor, leaving behind the room where I briefly felt complete. The emptiness settles deeper. It finds all the spaces between my ribs, all the hollow corners I didn’t know existed, and makes itself at home.

The corridors of the castle are still mostly empty, just the way I prefer them, but even if they were crowded, I would have spotted Arlo. He’s exactly where some part of me knew he would be, leaning against the outer wall near the infirmary. One foot braced against the wall, arms loosely folded, head tilted back just enough to catch the weak morning light filtering through the high windows.

The first thing I notice is the lack of guards standing nearby. This is the first time I’ve seen him without one of Kylian’s men trailing behind him.

The moment he sees me, everything about him shifts. His shoulders straighten, and a million words bounce around my head, but I can’t think of how to say them all. “Arlo, I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday, and . . . I need to explain about—”

“My head is harder than you give me credit for.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come here,” he mumbles, opening his arms and pulling me straight in against his chest.

I let his warmth wrap around me and tuck my face tightly against his chest, but something feels different about it, different about him, maybe. It’s like coming home to a place you’re not sure is home anymore.

He pulls back with a long sigh. “You look worse this morning. Still no sleep?”

“I did get sleep for once,” I admit. I felt great waking up, but it wasn’t until my surroundings returned to me that the ache came with it.

His gaze travels over my face with the kind of careful attention that makes me want to look away. I know he sees the shadows under my eyes that have become permanent, the tension in my jaw I can’t seem to release. I desperately want to explain how the bond works, that what he witnessed wasn’t . . .

My thoughts trail off because it is what I wanted. I crave his presence like I need air to breathe. It’s just that I wish I didn’t, and I wish there was a way to explain to Arlo that didn’t make things worse.

“You’ve been like this for a few weeks now,” he says. The careful way he says it tells me he’s been watching, and probably losing sleep of his own, wondering if he should say something or let it pass. That’s Arlo—always caught between protecting me and respecting my boundaries, even when those two things are at war with each other.

“I’m fine,” I reply automatically.

He doesn’t look convinced. Of course he doesn’t. In all our years, I doubt I’ve ever successfully sold him on I’m fine when it wasn’t true. Instead of pushing and demanding answers I don’t have or explanations I can’t give, he exhales quietly, a soft sound that carries the weight of all the questions he’s not asking.

“Come on,” he says gently, nodding toward the path that leads away from the main castle. “Let’s get out of here for a bit before the warden realizes I’ve slipped my guard again.”

The mention of Eagan sends a small spike of guilt through me. I should stay close and available in case Kylian needs . . . I cut that thought off. In case he needs to feed. In case he needs to take what he requires before ignoring me again.

I hesitate, caught between what I should do and what I want to do, between the responsible choice and the selfish one. Yet the thought of returning to that bedroom and sitting in that oppressive silence with nothing but my thoughts and the constant gnawing of the bond makes me pause. Maybe a little time alone with Arlo is exactly what I need.

“Fine, but I should at least tell Eagan whe—” His hands grip my face.

“So he can babysit you for the king who takes what he wants and ignores you the rest of the time?” Arlo asks.

“Arlo, he doesn’t . . .”