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I smiled at him, gently teasing, “Are you calling me weak, Ryder Bask? And if you are, isn’t a student’s skill—or lack thereof—due to the quality of her teacher?”

He came to me and took my hands, his frown softening into a sweet smile I was beginning to realize he showed to no one else.

“My brave Farrin,” he said. “In fact, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. But love, the responsibility of that—”

“Is something I don’t want to think about just now,” I said, “though I do have a few ideas.” I rubbed his fingers softly. “I’d like to convert some of the palace into additional hospitals, temporary housing and schools, anything to help people in the coming months.”

He made a low sound of approval. “A fine idea. It will be needed.”

“And I’d like to evacuate as many northerners south as we can. ”

That surprised him, and pleased him. He kissed my hands, his eyes shining. “The Warden won’t like that.”

“No, she won’t,” I said sharply, and left it at that. I stood with him in blessed silence for a moment, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you frightened? Of what’s to come, I mean?”

“Of course,” he answered at once. “Anyone who isn’t is a fool, and I don’t care to associate with fools.” Gently he turned up my chin so our eyes met. “But I also have hope. And I think you do too. I see you try to hide it, but I know your face. I know you.” He touched my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Farrin in the sunlight. Star of my life.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you what that means,” I said softly. “I’ve never heard the phrase before, not until you.”

“It’s a northern term of endearment. Star of my life: a fixed beacon, a guiding light. Beloved, and always there, day or night, but brightest when all around it is dark.” He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Flowery, I know. But I’ve always liked the sound of it. I always hoped…” His mouth twisted. Now he looked deeply embarrassed. “That is, I always thought it would be rather nice to have someone I loved enough to say that to.”

I was crying again. I gestured helplessly at myself with a rueful smile. “Now you’ve done it. And I’d only just managed to stop.”

He took my face in his hands, his touch as gentle as anything I’d ever felt. “Is it wrong of me,” he said quietly, “to be honored by those tears? That you would show them to me? That you love me that much?”

“Love you? Oh, so you think…you…” I put my hands on his chest, then shook my head in exasperation. “Ryder, I was going to say something clever, but I’ve lost all capacity for cleverness. Please.” I looked up at him. “Take me to bed. I want to see you. I want to be with you, now, right now, on the eve of war. I don’t want to think about anything else but that. Is that selfish?”

“Yes,” he said, “and beautifully so.”

Then he lifted me into his arms, and I wondered if I would ever stopbeing delighted at how easily he could carry me. I laughed through my tears and wound my arms around his neck. Allowing myself this happiness felt revolutionary. War would come, but tonight, in this house that had seen so much sadness, there would be only this: only the two of us and the silk of my bed. Our hands joined, my legs hooked around his as he moved in me, his voice rough and tender around the shape of my name. The violet gold of sunset paid silent tribute to Yvaine as it danced across our skin. We were alive, and we were together. I buried my face in his neck and held on tight, pressing all of myself against him—my body, my heart, every song my power carried. We were alive, and I would cherish every moment of it.

War would come, but not tonight.