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A frown furrowed the spot between her pale brows. She looked like shit, not that he would kick a woman while she wasso clearly down by telling her that. Her skin was covered in a layer of grime, her clothes had seen better days—bettermonths—and there was a heaviness that clung to her, depression in the slump of her shoulders, the bleakness of her eyes.

“You snarling at me,” he said with a little smile. “This is the bleakest dream I’ve had yet, and the room could use a serious upgrade—”

“Like your shithole apothecary was any better—” she muttered.

“But I’m actually quite happy to see you. In my worst dreams you’re dead, or being twisted into the same hellish thing I am.”

Maia narrowed her eyes, shifting further around until she faced him. “You’re not a hellish thing.” At his smile, she asked, “Are you?”

“Absolutely, babygirl.”

“No,” she said in a voice like iron.

He shrugged. He’d find something. “You know what would improve a cold, stark room like this…?”

Maia pinched the bridge of her nose, dirt under her fingernails, most of them snapped off instead of the pretty, long nails she’d had in Eosantha. As fantasies went, this could have used some work. It reminded him of Maia being taken by the saints, reminded him what could be happening this very moment, while he snored on Anzhelika and Sunny’s sofa.

“What?” Maia sighed finally.

“Sharing body heat. We could warm this place right up.”

Her expression flattened. “I’ve made enough mistakes for one night, thank you very much.”

“Ah, but you haven’t made mistakes with the rebornsaintof them. It’s a whole other level, sweetheart.”

“Az calls me that,” she murmured, her throat bobbing with a swallow.

“Where is he anyway?” Isak asked, casting another look around the small stone room. Cell. “Don’t tell me you’ve been left with that unfriendly oaf for company. It’s a wonder you aren’t throwing yourself at me for salvation.”

“I will never,” she said, meeting his eyes with a sharp smile on her face, “throw myself at you, dickhead.”

“See, you’ve got a sweet pet name for me,” he sighed. “And I don’t have one for you, honeybun.”

Maia shuddered in revulsion. “What do you want? Why are you, of all people, in my dream?”

“Excuse you very much,” Isak said, hand to his chest.“Youare intruding onmyfantasy. I had a very nice image of the apothecary in my head, and we were all playing happy families.”

“That’s what you fantasise about?” she asked, a little too heavy on the judgement if you asked him. “Family?”

Isak crossed his arms over his chest, affecting a casual shrug. “I was taken from my only living relative and cast into the chasm. I spentyearswaiting to see him at a dinner party, or maybe serving at a ball my owners visited, or even in the army ranks. So yeah, I fantasise about having a family,” he said bitterly. “What’s your darkest desire, North?”

She was looking at him, but he didn’t turn to meet that stare. “North?”

“The star in the north. It’s what Nysavion means. According to legend, your family were a travelling band of warriors with no name until one night they came across a forgotten den that belonged to a wyvern pair. The wyverns had been slain, their bodies stripped of meat and hide, but two eggs remained, hidden beneath a tiny crack in the wall. The stars shone bright that night, and by sheer coincidence—or fate—the light fell on the crack, almost as if the saints had led them there. As the legend goes, the family made their home there and guarded the eggsuntil they hatched. Their family name comes from the star that guided them to the wyverns—the star in the north.”

He chanced a look at the princess and found her watching him with a stark, open expression. Unguarded for the first time. He looked into those golden eyes which held an endless well of suffering.

“How do you know so much about my family?”

It was the first time he’d heard her acknowledge them as hers. “I don’t,” he replied with another shrug. “I know stories. Legends. Growing up where I did, I was banned from most rooms, but my master wanted his beastkind to be educated, mostly so he could parade us out at parties and show us off. Amy slave’s better than yourskinda thing. Books were all I had. And then I had training, and fighting, and war.”

“And a shit apothecary,” she reminded him.

“I’ll have you know that apothecary will be the success of the town by the time I’m finished fixing it up.”

Maia’s expression fell. Her eyes tracked a guilty trail away from him. “It’s gone.”

“Ah, shit, I forgot,” he sighed, resting his head back against the wall. The cold stone bled its temperature into his skull and he shivered. “Well, I’m not one to be deterred. I’ll find a nice shop here in Saintsgarde. Maybe a brothel.”