"Again."

I blew a silver curl out of my face and glared at my opponent.

Will pinned me to frosted grass, his hands holding either wrist flat to the ground above my head. Unbudging and inexorable.

During our lunch break, the prince had asked me to recreate my kidnapping in Cult City to help me practice escaping a captor—just in case I found myself in a similar situation again, with my hands impaired and my strength outmatched. But what I'd imagined as a brief hand-to-hand combat lesson had evolved into a full-blown wrestling match.

"Pelvic floor," he instructed. "Like your life depends on it this time."

I gathered my breath, replaying the steps over in my mind. Then I thrusted my hips upward and yanked my elbows down to my sides, throwing his entire body forward into a plank. The motion freed my hands, and as Will reached out to catch himself, I wrapped my arm around his bicep—locking him in place—and shoved him off my body with my left hand.

I scrambled away, delighted that I'd mastered the technique. But my pride took a nosedive as soon as I tried to run.

Will's arms circled my waist, and before I could think of an effective defense tactic, he'd pulled me back to the ground and flipped me over.

Just like that, I was back to stage one, trapped beneath his weight and conceited gaze.

Dammit.

We stared at one another, my glower useless against his smug expression, my arms hostage to his vice grip. Loose hair fell down around his face, shading his eyes and the solid line splitting his smirk.

We took a few seconds to catch our breath, and I couldn't stop myself from studying his features and their strange juxtapositions.

His pointy edges were perfect and shapely, drawn with a meticulous hand, and yet there was a softness to his rounded nose and cupid's bow—a kind of femininity to his long lashes and silky bangs. His hooded eyes were narrow and mean like his brother's, but somehow, also soft and pensive like his mother's. And despite the warmth and tenderness beneath his armor, a cold, muted darkness laced every feature.

Honestly, he was...striking. And he didn't even realize it, which made him all the more beautiful.

Slowly, his hands slid up my forearms, gliding over my wrists and into my palms, his fingers threading through mine. It was a bold move, considering I could send a death wave through my gloves at any moment.

Then again, he'd never displayed any reservations when it came to touching my palms. They'd nearly killed him on multiple occasions, and yet he never once looked at them like the weapons they were. Which meant he either placed his complete trust in me, or he didn't fear death.

His face was close now. Close enough that I had to look back and forth between his eyes.

He leaned forward, and my heart kicked against my ribcage, unsure what to do, where to hide. His eyes flicked over my enraptured expression and the blush that undoubtedly flooded my cheeks. Then he bent his head down next to my ear. "Never turn your back on the enemy when they're still breathing."

His breath tickled my neck, and I turned my head slightly, my cheek brushing his. "I thought that was your job. To watch my back."

He exhaled in amusement, peeling back to watch me.  "I won't always be there."

My grin vanished, and when he saw the change in me, so did his.

"That's not what I meant," he amended.

I turned my head away, wincing. "No, you're right."

There was no guarantee that he'd stick around forever. We'd discussed that reality two nights ago on a rusty trampoline.

The heat between us went cold, and, realizing he'd murdered the moment, he let me go, frowning at the icy wall I'd erected.

I rolled away, out of his clutches, out of the sun. Shaking off his lingering heat, I marched over to Frank, who was mowing down creek shrubs and judging me with his eye-squint. Per usual.

For the past two days, we'd traveled river to river in hopes of locating the Rhean city, or at the very least, determining the most promising mountain pass. At each watershed, I'd blast the riverbank with my power—all the way up the mountain to its water source—searching for memories of travelers or hunters or mountain folk. So far, I'd only found snippets of the Temple of Josiah fishing and refueling. And each time, I'd left behind giant patches of dead and wilting riparian habitat.

Despite our futile efforts, though, Beckett and I were grateful to have a few extra days to heal. My superior was doing much better today, even if he wasn't cracking as many jokes as usual. As promised, he'd stepped back from his leadership role and instead consulted with the group on route choices and food prep. It made me respect him even more—something I didn't think was possible.

Due to the cult's barbaric appetite, we were also down a horse, so Tori had offered Beckett his steed—the diabolical bastard. Now, the medic shared his ride and personal space with a blushing, stuttering Mason all day.

As entertaining as it was, I abstained from harassing Mason about his predicament. The welt was finally letting his guard down around Tori, and I didn't want to damage that. In fact, their friendship had advanced significantly since Mason polluted his blood with alcohol, and I suspected the blond enjoyed having an excuse for that proximity—cringey flirtations and all.

I felt Valerie's eyes on me as I stuffed our camping gear back into my saddlebag, and I steeled myself for an intrusive questionnaire.

"Lover's spat?" she teased.

"Don't."

She gave me a dry look.  "Come on, Alex.  Can't you tell Liam's flirting?"

"Will doesn't even know what flirting is."

"Apparently, neither do you!" she exclaimed. "I swear, you and Mason are one and the same. I'm surprised you can both swim, as dense as you are."

I faced her, my gaze flitting over the rabbitbrush in her hair and the clay beads dangling from her neck. How she maintained her fashion sense on a multi-day trek astounded me. "Look, Will and I care about each other, okay? It's more than friendship; I can admit that much. But it's not—"

"He loves you, Kingsley."

The words hit me square in the chest, robbing my lungs of oxygen, and I was suddenly back at the edge of a snowy mountain, watching the chilling statement spill from Demon-Will's lips.

You've killed the boy you love.

The declaration had knocked the world off its axis that night, and since then, I'd done my best to purge it from my memory. I'd stashed the secret away to be reevaluated at a later date, buried the fear of romantic love and what that could mean for us—and more importantly, what it could change.

Later, when Will had tried to confess his feelings to me that day at the wall, I'd kissed him as a means of skipping that wobbly, slippery steppingstone. We felt the same way, and I needed him to know that, but I hadn't dared utter the life-altering phrase.

Not then. Not now.

"You know it's true. And you know you feel the same way," she insisted. "Fighting that emotion is hurting both of you."

"I'm not doing this with you right now," I told her, begging for another day of blissful denial. "We've got a war to fight. Romance isn't a priority."

"What do you mean? It's a top priority!" She stepped closer, lowering her voice so Mason and the others couldn't hear. "Love is rare in a world of marriage contracts, Alex. It's beautiful. And you two have found it in the middle of cannon fire...even if you refuse to admit it."  She poked me in the arm.  "You're wasting time."

The last line flicked a tender nerve, and I snapped, sick of the pressure, the teasing, the unsolicited nudging. "And you're wearing rose-colored glasses—like always!" I hissed. "Maybe you should take a gander at the war around you, Val. People are dying left and right. This is not the time."

Hurt flashed over her face, and I instantly tasted the sour tart of my words.

Gritz.

Did the concept of running out of time frighten me that much? Was I that spooked by her assessment?

"You're right," she said quietly. "I won't deny that I see in shades of primrose—Siren always says I'm biologically incapable of pessimism. I accept that about myself." Angry brown eyes locked on mine. "But at least I'm not a coward."

I bit my tongue and turned around, stuffing a blanket into my bag with unnecessary force.

"You act like you're all callouses, but you're just afraid to get hurt," she went on, exasperated. "You fear loving someone that deeply when half the people you care about wind up dead or turned. You fear intimacy, because all your life, you've worn those gloves, and they've become an excuse to shut people out." She let out a disappointed sigh. "Keeping everyone at a distance is your self-defense mechanism, Alex.  It's what you know."

I closed my eyes.

She aimed true, as only the best archers do.

I was scared to admit how much Will meant to me, and I was even more terrified to enter the next phase of our relationship. He'd already left me, twice. And while he'd chosen to fight beside me, he'd never promised to stay.

I couldn't imagine losing him for good; I'd dipped my toe in that pool of loss before, and I hadn't fared well. If we continued down this path, all I saw in our future was pain.

"You already know your feelings, Alex," she said, reading my mind. "Losing him will hurt regardless, so you might as well bare your hearts while they're still beating.  Don't miss your chance like Rover did with Jaden." 

Her retreating steps faded away, and I dropped my shoulders, staring down at the straps of my pack, my frozen fingertips sticking out of my gloves.

There was a reason they called it falling in love. Not jumping, not leaping, not greeting love formally at the threshold. Falling implied that the initial jump was unscripted. It implied that at some point, you either stopped falling or struck the earth far below.

And a long, hard fall would most certainly break you.

I woke up warm.

We'd set up camp in the bones of an ancient cabin, enjoying the wind break and the old stone fireplace, where a pile of embers glowed an alluring red. Heat poured into the living room, and in the dark, I could just make out a snoring Mason bundled in blankets on the floor, curled up suspiciously close to Torian. Valerie and Beckett each occupied different corners in the room, and Richard lay at my feet, twitching in his sleep.

Will and I had claimed the leather couch after winning a round of backgammon, and save for the weeds growing through the upholstery and the holes left by animals seeking nesting material, it was a wonderful alternative to rock-hard, frozen dirt.

I lay with my back to Will's torso, his chest rising and falling with every breath, one of his knees bent beside mine, the other falling off the couch. His head rested against the corner cushion, and I knew he was going to be a mess of aching joints tomorrow. But the flutter of his eyelids told me he was dreaming, and I didn't want to disturb him.  Deep sleep was rare for the troubled prince.

I stared at the hand draped over my stomach—the tattoos and designs so fine and intricate.  Gently, I flipped his hand over to inspect his knuckles and the fading scripture along his veins.

The first line, printed upon the tendon leading to his ring finger, read, I fight for my land. 

At the base of his middle, I rule for my people.

And there, along his pointer—I die for posterity.

I swallowed, glancing back at him. 

He looked so peaceful like this, expression lax, lines absent from his brow. If a stranger were to encounter him in this moment, she would never know the tragedy he harbored behind those eyes, the raging thunder he muffled behind pressed lips. He was a mystery to all but one, and even though I'd toured the darkest corners of his brain, I still struggled to understand him and the feelings he concealed.

He loves you, Kingsley, Valerie had said. So confidently. So convinced.

And it wasn't so far-fetched, was it? After all he'd done for me? Saving my life again and again, placing himself in peril. Returning when it pained him to do so, staying when it cost him his freedom.

And every time I'd fallen apart, he hadn't put me back together again—only I could do that—but he'd swept all the pieces into one pile, and he'd offered me the glue and the strength I would need to rise again.

Only someone who truly loves you will go fetch the broom, over and over.

My gaze dropped back to his pointer finger and its ominous script, and an anxious pain churned in my gut.

Our weed-infested cabin stood in the middle of a beautiful glade. The forest glowed silver beneath hazy moonlight, and the snow had already melted in this part of the Rim, leaving behind a sense of freshness and rejuvenation.

The night air felt good on my skin, like a splash of cold river water to get me thinking straight, and my anxiety was just beginning to fade when a twig snapped behind me.

I whirled around, prepared to zap my offender to kingdom come. But I didn't have to.

"Someone's anxious." Torian leaned against a tree, watching me with a tiny, concerned smile. "Care to share why you're pacing around in the forest after midnight?"

I stuffed my hands in my cloak's pockets. "Couldn't sleep."

"Right. It has nothing to do with a certain Rhean prince, then?"

I cast him a suspicious glance. "Did Valerie say something?"

"No. You're just not very good at masking your emotions."

Well. I couldn't argue with that.

He approached me with the casualness of a lifelong friend, and I couldn't help feeling relieved that it wasn't Will who'd found me tonight. I wouldn't know what to say to him in this moment. There were too many emotions in my brain; nothing that poured from my lips would make any sense.

We sat on a fallen log in companionable silence, breathing in the mountain air, breathing out the stress. It was a strange time to be awake, this period between midnight and dawn. The whole world stood still at this hour, questioning its own existence in the universe. It felt like I was intruding on a private moment.

"Tori, how can you be so confident?" I whispered. "With Mason?"

The Rhean welcomed the question with an easy grin. "Well, for one, he's got a thick skull, so I have to be extra obvious about my intentions." He squinted up at the murky sky, as if the stars might make their first debut in over a decade. "But also...what is there to lose? If he reciprocates my feelings, which I suspect he does, then I gain a lover. If he doesn't, I still have a friend."

"What if you break each other's hearts, though? I mean, it's war...any one of us could die at any moment. And you're from two completely different cultures—cultures that consider each other enemies."

Those cat-like eyes slid my way, curious and perceptive. "Is that what's stopping you? Uncertainty?"

I nodded, finding it ridiculously easy to open up to him without the fear of being judged or ridiculed. "Even if we somehow survive this, which is unlikely, I still don't know how to be...together. I don't know what being someone's partner entails."

My mother had died when I was six years old, and while I recalled her affection toward my father—her support and unwavering loyalty—that was about the extent of it. Their day-to-day interactions were a blur to me, and the thought of becoming someone's housewife, as Belgate instructed, set my veins on fire. And the idea of being someone's queen triggered my fight or flight response.

My environment had provided me with no real blueprints for a healthy relationship. No model for the kind of lifelong partnership I desired.

Valerie was right: true intimacy was a foreign concept to me.

"It's just...how could I possibly give him what he needs?" I gestured to myself. "I'm the furthest thing from domestic. And I can't even touch him without frying his brain."

I expected Tori to laugh, but he just frowned at me, assessing my pain with the thoughtfulness of any good doctor. "You're afraid you won't meet his expectations."

"I'm certain I can't." My gaze found the wilted grass in front of me. "Losing each other before we're ready is a horrible thought. But losing him because he doesn't want me in his life anymore, because I don't fit into his world...that terrifies me."

We'd found each other at such a young age. How could we possibly stand the test of time when we were still discovering who we were?

"Alex, there are plenty of men in Ells who'd love a supportive wife. Someone to cook and clean up after them, help raise their children, cater to their needs. But Sterling? He's obsessed with you exactly as you are—and trust me, he doesn't hide it. Quite frankly, he can't afford to hide anything when you've won the heart of every unmarried federate."

My face twisted in disgust, and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into his lanky frame, grateful for his body heat.

"Besides, real love isn't a feeling that just vanishes out of nowhere. Siren and Victor are proof of that, and so were my parents."

I blinked in surprise. I'd never heard him speak about his mother before. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. My parents were gross—totally head-over-heels in love with each other, even after twenty years," he said. "They argued and bickered a lot, and having me didn't make their lives any easier, but they worked hard for their marriage. They were best friends, always teasing each other and laughing at the stupidest things." He smiled sadly. "For them, I think death was the only thing capable of driving them apart. Even now, I wouldn't be surprised if their spirits had found each other again."

His words burned the corners of my eyes.

After Styx, I'd spent many hours wondering what life after death entailed, particularly in a dimension populated with spirits, demons, and magic. What awaited us on the other side of the portal? Was there a heaven, as Sol believed? Or did human spirits occupy the same space as us mortals, and we simply couldn't see them?

After death, did we have any concept of self? Did we retain our memories and our love for another? Because the notion that my parents might have reunited in the netherworld made me want to drop to the ground and weep.

"Those two taught me that real love is something you nurture every day," Tori said. "You either choose to keep the candle lit, or you don't."

"And what if a storm comes and blows it out?" I murmured.

He huffed, planting a chaste kiss above my eyebrow. "Then you light a new candle."

I hummed, glad for his company and encouraging words. It was crazy to think I'd met the 20-year-old outside a random Rhean village, and now, two months later, we were seeking a peace deal between our people and trading love confessions.

How many more connections lay dormant during this war? How many friendships had our countries' rivalry denied?

My gaze drifted from our muddy boots to the trees surrounding us, and what I saw fifty feet away had my heart leaping out of my chest.

I gasped, shooting to my feet and choking on a startled curse.

"What?" Tori squeaked.

I placed myself between the ominous shadow and the young doctor, glaring into the shrubbery as my pulse pounded in my temple, ribs, and fingertips—my gaze pinned to the glowing eyes in the darkness.

Muscles clenched and ready to spring, I waited for our lurking guest to make its move.

Don't be another demon bear. Please don't be another demon bear!

Slowly, the beast crept forward, lowering its head in a sign of submission, and my apprehension waned as I peered closer. The creature was too small to be a bear, and far too hairy to be a mountain lion.

No...this was a wolf. A jet-black wolf I'd encountered before.

"I know you," I breathed.

Her thick mane, narrow snout, and giant paws confirmed it: this was the same canine who'd pulled me from the frozen lake that night along the Northern Pass.

She sat down at the edge of the glade, staring at me and my dumbstruck expression with those patient amber eyes. Watching, waiting.

Assessing.

"Why are you here?" I asked her, ignoring Tori's confused and anxious mumbling behind me. "Do you have something to show us?"

She blinked at me slowly, and I decided that was probably the most elaborate form of communication the spirit wolf had to offer.

"Tori," I whispered, keeping my eyes on our flighty visitor, "go get the others. I think we've got a nice sunrise hike ahead of us."

************************************************

Sorry for taking an extra week, guys! Work is insane right now, and I had to move a few plot points around. But we FINALLY get to dip our toes in Al's romance arc, woohoo.

Thanks for reading! <3