Two days later, after I return from another brutal training session with Zikkora, a knock sounds on my door. My fingers halt from where they attempt to unbuckle the complicated, twisting straps over the leather cuirass, and I manage a scowl at the black door that Edire painted white stars over. Sloppy and ill-defined, they bring a small shred of light into the dark room.

Despite my desire to take a bath and fall into bed, I shout, "Come in!" I manage one buckle and rejoice, moving onto another.

After I took a brutal kick to the stomach the day before, Zikkora ordered I wear something that protected me from an injury I would take too long to recover from. Apparently, the Void Queen has something against healing what nature should take care of. Luminaries aren't allowed to use their healing abilities to help others unless there's an emergency, she says it 'ruins the severity of training' if they realize they can cause as much damage as they wish while knowing it can be easily fixed.

As soon as the person peeks in from the other side of the door, I realize my mistake. Mutes's shaggy brown hair hangs over his forehead, a curl nearly falling to his eyes. The sight of it angers me; he hasn't taken the time to run his fingers through his hair, let alone a comb, so why is he here? Of course, those two things aren't related and I slap myself internally for looking for another reason to hate him. It's all too easy after what he did.

"What do you want?" I speak around an annoyed sigh.

He deflects my harsh tone by stepping in the room but goes no further. I should have told the guards standing in the hallway to deter him every time he comes close to knocking on my door. "I wanted to see how your training was going," he says. "I want to know how you're faring. Here. At the palace."

Angrily, I yank a leather strap loose and pinch my fingers, silently cursing underneath my breath. A few more straps come easier, but the buckles continue to be a nuisance. A layer of sweat sticking to my abdomen keeps my shirt from peeling away against my stomach, and I have a strong suspicion that once I pull the cuirass over my head, my shirt will cling on for dear life.

"Everything is fine."

He's the last person I want to speak to. Even Edire would be a better conversationalist.

The room is silent for a moment. Long enough that I believe he left without bothering to open or close the door to get out of the room. I figure my cold voice is enough to deter him, but then he sighs. "You can't hate me forever, Marie." I flinch at the softness in his voice. He used to speak to me in reassurance, forming a similar tone of comfort. "I did what I had to do to survive."

One of the straps is so coated in sweat that it won't release. I consider taking a knife to it but clench my hands into fists instead. Zikkora will make me to thirty extra push-ups tomorrow if he sees that I violated my equipment. "Did you ever think about what this would do to me?" I snap. My voice slowly raises. "Did you realize I would be leaving my family behind? What about all the other people I care about, Mutes?"

He raises his brows, narrowing his eyes that have always been too soft. "Do you mean Cloak?"

"That's the last person I want to think about," I grumble, shaking my head with lost dignity. Of course, he will try to use that against me. Cloak. Everyone thought we were more than what we were, especially Mutes. He practically fumed every time the prince came around and dragged me away. We never split the difference. "He has probably forgotten I exist since that princess arrived, anyway."

"That's not true. Cloak would never forget about you. If I know Cloak at all, I know he wouldn't consider wedding a woman he doesn't love." At least he tries to sound condescending. Like he truly cares about my worries.

All these hours I have spent during training keep me from wondering whether everyone at the palace is going on without me, without caring where I am or if I'm alive, but when I'm alone in my room at night with nothing to do except stare at the ceiling until I'm tired enough to fall asleep, my mind wanders. Cloak with the princess, Theo and Gustus forgetting I exist, my own brother being too busy with Reseda to notice I'm gone. Chaska has only ever followed me down every dark path; if there's anyone willing to brave the Void to find me, it's her. They'll have to lock her away before telling her it's not the brightest idea, risking her life for someone that wouldn't do the same for her. At least that's what they believe.

I scoff without thinking twice about the impression my foolishness can give. "I hardly believe that." The last buckle loosens and I pull the cuirass over my head, tossing it onto the back of the black settee. Mutes' eyes follow it, feigning disinterest. "Listen, Mutes, I'm exhausted. I want to take a bath and go to bed. Zikkora had me...wrapping a shield around my body so he could swing swords at me. I have enough to deal with right now."

A breathy laugh escapes through his nose and, completely ignoring my request, he takes one step further into the room. The soft click of his shoes on the marble floor is nothing like Fidibi's flat slippers or the slap of Edire's bare feet. His movements are strictly professional, working timely with the stature of his company. The lover of one queen, the loyal puppy dog to another. I wonder why he went on for so long, making love to a woman he would eventually betray. His exhaustion didn't come from the grief of his life, and I figured that out too late.

"Training can be dreadful, at times. When I first became—"

"Why are you here, Mutes?" I demand, cutting him off. "Why keep seeking me out after you receive what you wanted?" I blow a strand of sticky white hair out of my face, snapping my head back to push back the other disarrayed turrets.

Mutes shrugs, a playful light glinting in his eye. He takes careful steps towards me, one foot in front of the other, and keeps his head down. At least that keeps me from having to respect the symmetry of his high collar, so close to a soft, yet sharp jawline. The inward sink of his cheekbones makes my heart flutter. I wish to rip it out, that faulty, flickering desire to wonder anything more about Mutes than his friendship.

"I miss talking to you. I miss our friendship." I resist the urge to stop him as he halts in front of me, studying my face in the same way I am his. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, or when I feel the need to make him realize that I am not his pawn. All of that leaves when he reaches up, stroking the outside of his thumb from my temple to my jaw.

The heat of his skin makes me clench tight, muscles withering. I dig my nails into the meat of my palm and resist the urge to lean into him, to search for a shred of warmth in this winter-infested palace.

"We never had a friendship. You used me to further your own goals," I say numbly. My voice doesn't sound like my own, it's rasped and broken, unfocused.

He trails his thumb over my jaw and circles my ear, tucking a loose strand of white with a gentle twist of his finger. "I could've left much sooner, but I stuck around when you arrived. I stayed quiet, I...waited until the right moment to persuade her to keep you alive. You had potential, and no one else saw it. No one else other than me."

I choose to stare at his chest instead of the swarm of honey brown I'll get lost in. Mutes' breathing comes steady like he's sleeping instead of tracing the line of my cheekbone. "That's not true." I swallow a dry clod of nerves in my throat. "If no one else saw it, then why...why should you?"

Again, his shoulders raise in confliction. He tilts his chin to the side, trying to find my eye. "I thought you were special in more ways than one."

A phantom hand takes hold of my chin and raises my eyes to his. Mutes halts his fingers from where they thread into my hairline after sliding across the outside of my neck. My skin prickles with chills. Anger wafts away like smoke, yet clings to his clothes in remembrance.

I don't want to forgive him for what he did to take me away from a life I finally had the chance to appreciate. We struggled in Gudgeon after my parents died; after Chaska lost the only family she ever had. I spent my nights lying awake, wondering how I could keep my brother alive for just a few more days. Sure, I had Rylan. But I didn't have freedom.

Living in the capital, I grasped the freedom I sought. Mutes took that away. And even so, he claims we shared a friendship.

"I'm sorry, Marie," he whispers. Warm breath grazes my nose and I lean into him without realizing what my body wants. It moves on its own accord without warning. "This will all come to an end at one point or the other. You'll be happy. I'll make sure of it."

Something within me snaps. I press a palm to his chest, shoving him away. His hand trails from my hair, brushing against my neck one last time. I relish in the hurt on his face. "I would already be happy if it wasn't for you doing what you did."

Mutes freezes, his nostrils flared. I think he might yell at me, might tell me I should appreciate all he has done, but he doesn't do either of those things. He knows where he is wrong, and I can't value what he did to rid me of comfort. Words won't convey what he's feeling, so he turns to action instead.

Mutes takes my face in his hands, palms pressing to my cheeks, and pulls my lips to his. I'm so desperate for someone's warmth that I nearly allow him to kiss me, but as much as I want it to happen, it can't. It takes substantial effort to reach my hands to his chest to shove him back. For added effort, I wipe the back of my wrist along my mouth. "You can't kiss me!" I shout. "I can't...do that."

His face hardens. Heavy rasps of breath come through his parted mouth. Lips I just kissed that are all too tempting to remember after such a brief encounter. Despite myself, I want to do it again. There was something there, a spark of Luminary excitement blossoming from my toes, to my fingers, to my ballooned head. "Is it because of Cloak?" he snaps.

"No," I object immediately, a little too harshly.

Mutes flinches. He knows the truth. I didn't tell him I kissed Cloak, there wasn't any time to explain that to anyone other than the person it happened with, but it would be stupid to think no one has their suspicions. I shouldn't feel guilty for kissing Cloak, then Mutes weeks later. I shouldn't possess the complex desire to have both of them while neither of them gets to enjoy anyone else.

I drag a hand along my forehead in a desperate attempt to wipe away my exhaustion. "Mutes, I just—I need—"

His arms slide around my waist and pull me flush against him. I don't know who kisses who first, whether we both initiate the need to release tension we have both felt being around each other, or if my heightened Luminary senses drive me towards him like a speeding carriage into a brick wall. I'll crash, and I won't recover, but the adrenaline of it is worth the while.

I melt in his arms, throwing my own around his neck, and kiss him with all the might I possess. He wrings out the last of my strength. I bring myself to my toes, kissing harder.

I don't care if he was once the Raven Queen's lover or the Void Queen's confidant. Neither of us has clean pasts, and we are lying to each other by doing this. We shove away doubt and disregard the faulty, fragile glass of our relationship.

My hands trail to his shoulders, pushing off his coat, and he shrugs his arms out. It falls to the ground with a heavy thump; I'm too distracted by yanking up his shirt to care. Mutes' body counters mine, hard against soft, heat against more heat. My feet stumble along the floor, unable to keep up with themselves until my knees hit the back of the bed and I sink down.

Cold air kisses my skin, but Mutes is there to block the chill. The world fades to black, darker than the room, the palace, and the night. It is only him—not my thoughts, worries, or memories of him. Mutes, his body, his kiss, his warmth. I lose myself in it and I truly realize that, after this, there is no going back.