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Kylian’s expression hardens, but it is not anger that moves through the bond now. It is grief.

“You will not be a mindless monster,” Kylian says, urgently, almost furious with the fact that Arlo will not understand. “You will live, you will heal, and you will hate me tomorrow with a working heart if that makes this easier for you.”

Arlo gives a broken laugh that turns into a cough, and fresh blood spills over his lip in a thick red line that makes my stomach twist.

“I know the laws, what you’re suggesting is forbidden. You’d be breaking the law for me,” Arlo says, his gaze shifting to Kylian. “No turning new vampires.”

“This is not the moment for principle, I will deal with the fallout” Kylian snaps.

Arlo’s eyes flick back to mine, and the look there is so soft, so sorry, that my magic surges before I can stop it, gold light flooding over his chest.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I choke. “You are not allowed to make peace with this.”

“I don’t have much time left to argue with you,” he whispers.

“You have all the time you want if you drink,” I say, pushing Kylian’s wrist closer to his mouth with shaking hands. “So drink, Arlo, please, please just drink.”

Arlo’s gaze drops to Kylian’s blood, and for one terrible heartbeat, he looks tempted, not by immortality but by the chance to keep breathing long enough to go home.

Then his face folds with pain.

“I was never meant for forever,” he says.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head as tears fall fast enough to blur him.

My magic surges with everything it has left.

Skin pulls. Muscle tries to knit.

Blood slows for half a breath, then surges again because the wound is too wide, too deep. I force more power into him. The gold light turns white.

My nose pours blood. The warmth runs over my mouth and down my chin, mixing with Arlo’s blood until I cannot tell what belongs to him and what belongs to me.

“Alessia,” Kylian says, and I gasp as the world tilts and narrows around Arlo’s face.

“You are going to drop,” Eagan warns, his voice tight with fear.

“I don’t care.”

Arlo’s fingers tighten weakly around my wrist.

“Stop,” he whispers. “You’re killing yourself.”

His eyes fill with tears, and that hurts more than the magic burning me hollow from the inside.

“Ali,” he whispers, dragging the name out with so much love that it ruins me. “You can’t follow me into this.”

“I am not following you anywhere because you are not leaving,” I say, pressing harder as the wound spills beneath my palms. “You hear me, Arlo, you are not leaving me.”

Kylian grabs my wrist and forces it toward his open wound.

“Arlo,” he says, and there is no hatred in his voice now. “I am telling you as a king and as the man who loves her, drink my blood.”

Arlo looks at him, and something passes between them that I do not understand at first.

“I guess this answers your question,” Arlo says, his voice almost gone now. “I would die for her.”

Kylian’s jaw flexes. “You do not need to die.”