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He blamed himself for not seeing Taft’s betrayal—that he didn’t stop it before Ardan paid the price.

Pri and Asrai had set up a makeshift camp near Nithra’s stables, teaching the students who had come from the academy how to wield their magic. So far, they were all doing better than any of us expected.

Asrai had been teaching so many of us for years, right under the nose of the House of High and they had never known. She had been risking her life, all so that her students could learn to protect themselves.

Pri seemed to be right in her element, and those children loved her. Occasionally, Wren would assign her a job that would take her out of Locdragoon for a few days, but when she came back . . . I have never seen so many smiling faces.

Pri’s methods were . . . softer than Asrai’s, but still effective. Though, she had been on edge recently in a way I had never seen before. But we all were; I couldn’t blame her for that.

Then there was Ata.

She had spent these last few months perfecting her shifting until she could wield it like she had been using it from the day she was born. It was an asset to us. It made her almost invisible inside of rooms she didn’t want to be noticed. So, Wren had offered her a position as an officer within his ranks and she snagged up the offer without hesitation. When she wasn’t on assignment, she was starting bar fights.

Wearing another’s face.

The taverns in Nethkar had started whispering rumors of the Woman of Many Faces, and when I heard them, I knew they were speaking of her.

She wasn’t doing well.

I could see she was desperately trying to hold herself together, trying not to take her anger and heartbreak out on us. Instead, she was causing herself physical pain to distract from the turmoil she tried so hard to bury. I wanted to scream at her to let me in—shake her until the wall she built collapsed. But I knewthat wouldn’t help, knew forcing her to open up would only push her away. She had always come to me when she was ready, and I tried to trust that this time would be no different.

“I need to get to the war room,” Landers said, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts as he pulled away.

I dragged my eyes away from the crack in the marble floor I had fixated on, falling back to the edge of the bed, and watched as he gathered papers from his desk.

“She will be okay, Hyacinth,” he said as he knelt down in front of me, cupping my face in his palm. “Give her time. If I have learned anything about that little beast, it is that she is a survivor. And shewillsurvive this.”

My lips turned upward in a sad smile as I nodded.

Somehow, he always knew the emotion that was flowing just under the surface, always knew what I needed to hear to quiet the thoughts in my head.

“I’m coming with you,” I said, pushing from the bed. “I want to get some more reading in before the castle wakes.”

I pulled a black tunic over my head then slid into my leathers and strapped a belt of daggers to my chest as Landers smirked at me.

“What?” I snapped and his smile widened.

“Is there danger in the war room I should know about?” he asked, amusement dancing in his tone as he lifted a brow at my knives. I rolled my eyes, slipping into my boots and lacing them up.

“Who knows, if you keep talking like that you may just find one held to your throat. As I recall, you dolovethe sight of a dagger in my hand,” I said, smiling as I stretched my hand out to him.

He intertwined his fingers with mine, pulling me against his side as his lips brushed my ear.

“Only when those long legs of yours are straddling me, Darkness,” he whispered as I pressed myself against him.

A low throaty chuckle escaped his lips as his teeth connected with my neck, then he tethered us to the war room.

We landed in the center of the room as shadows shot from my back toward the door, locking it as I grabbed the collar of his tunic and pulled him toward me, my lips crashing onto his.

It had been days since his hands had claimed me. Days since the warmth of him seared into my skin.

And my Gods, I missed him.

My family, my friends, were every beat of my heart, but Landers . . . Landers was the air that kept that heart beating.

We had been busy—me exhausted from my training and him from his travels to and from Ithia, and I could not wait another second to be one with him again.

I needed to feel his hands on me—his lips on me.