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The shift is immediate. Civilians rise from their seats, their fear from moments ago long forgotten as they crowd toward the guard with mail. He sets the satchel down on one of the tables and begins pulling out letters, bundles of paper tied with string, small packages wrapped in cloth.

“Names will be called,” he says firmly, holding up a hand to keep the crowd back. “You’ll all get your mail.”

Excitement ripples through the room in a way that feels almost absurd given what just happened, but I suppose letters from loved ones carry more weight than the violence of kings, and maybe that is the most human thing I’ve witnessed in weeks.

Eagan looks just as confused as I feel, his gaze moving between the guard, Arlo, and Kylian. Arlo coughs and stands, and when I move to check on him, Eagan grips my arm. My gaze meets his before his voice flits through my head.

“Don’t provoke the king by running to him. I will check on him.”

I nod as Eagan moves to check on Arlo who swats his hands away.

My attention shifts back to Kylian. He has already taken the paper from the guard, the sealed letter separate from the mail satchel, and his gaze scans it quickly, but his expression is unreadable.

“What does it say?” I ask, stepping closer, despite the fact that his hand was around Arlo’s throat not thirty seconds ago, forgetting too soon that I should be furious with him.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and he folds the letter once.

Across the room, the guard begins calling names from the satchel letters. “Arlo Basik.”

Arlo freezes, coming to a stop beside me. Red marks cover his throat from Kylian’s fingers, and the sight of them makes something hot and sick twist through my stomach.

“I had them send a letter to Mom and Angie when I was in the cells, to let them know I was still alive,” he explains.

I nod, watching as he steps forward and takes the letter from the guard, his hands steady as he breaks the seal.

I turn back to Kylian. “Tell me what’s in that letter.”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Anger sparks hot and instant through my veins. Before I even think about what I’m doing, I reach out and snatch the paper from him. He reacts just as fast, grabbing me. The room moves in a blur, and the air leaves my lungs when I find myself pressed against cold brick. His hand slams against the wall beside my head as he pins me there, his body crowding mine as he reaches for it, and his closeness sends the bond screaming through every nerve in my body. The heat, fury, and want are all tangled together until I can’t tell which feeling belongs to him and which belongs to me.

“Give it to me,” he growls, his crimson eyes burning into mine.

“No,” I snap, clutching the letter tighter against my chest, refusing to flinch even as his breath ghosts across my face and my traitorous body leans into the warmth of him. “The fact you don’t want me to see it means it’s important.”

“You’ve made it clear, little mage, that you have no desire to stand by my side. News of my kingdom does not concern you.”

“Kylian,” I push again, and this time, I let my voice go softer, not because I’m surrendering but because I know that softness disarms him faster than any fight. “Let me help. That is why you brought me here.”

Kylian just stares at me, his breathing is uneven, and there is something vulnerable in his expression that he would kill anyone else for seeing. He exhales sharply through his nose and leans back, giving me just enough space to breathe.

I unfold the letter with fingers that tremble, scanning the words quickly.

“It’s from King Kaiser. He’s the Avelvorn king, right?” I ask, looking up at him, and he nods. “He’s requesting a meeting on his island. He wants to discuss treaties. This is a good thing, isn’t it?” I ask, searching his face.

“No,” Kylian replies, his voice flat and certain. “Kaiser has never once sent ships here. If he’s reaching out now, it’s because he wants something, read the last part.” My eyes move back to the letter when I see the last line. Bring your little bond. I’d love to meet her.

I suck in a breath, and Kylian takes the letter back from me. He’s barely holding himself together when a sharp gasp cuts through the room.

My head snaps toward the sound, and the world tilts sideways beneath my feet. Arlo’s knees hit the stone, and his body folds in on itself, the letter still clutched in his fist so tightly that the paper is crumpling. His whole body is shaking.

“Arlo?” I murmur, pushing past Kylian and moving toward him. When his face lifts toward me, I see something I have never seen on Arlo’s face before, not in all the years of beatings, starvation, and cruelty that should have broken him a hundred times over.

Grief.

“Arlo?” I drop to my knees beside him so fast that pain shoots through my joints as my hands find his shoulders. “What is it, what happened?”

“We need to go home,” he breathes, and his voice breaks on the word in a way that makes my entire chest cave in. “We need to go home, Ali.” His warm hazel eyes are glassy with tears.