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The duel with Aimee had been fun, if short. Now she was left staring at the hours ahead, unsure what to do with them. She wasn’t built for idleness. It gave her too much time alone with her thoughts.

Too much time to dwell on how certain shadow mages now seemed to be avoiding her.

She wasn’t being paranoid. She hadn’t drawn any concrete conclusions—yet. But the evidence was mounting.

Skye hadn’t come to bed for the last two nights. Which was funny, considering he’d made such a big damn deal about sharing one.

If she entered a room, he was already halfway out, and that was assuming they even crossed paths at all.

Hell, he hadn’t really evenlookedat her since the night he had his fingers inside her, which, if she were searching for a reason, was arguably the most pivotal moment in their relationship to date. And if shewasbeing paranoid—which she wasn’t. Butifshe was, she might be starting to think that, well… maybe that’s where something went wrong.

She had no basis for comparison, obviously. So, the lack of feedback really was… troubling.

Maybe she’d made a weird face.

Or maybe he was mad that she fell asleep. Though that seemed stupid. He was the one that kept trying to get her to rest.

She kept replaying it, analyzing every breath, every noise, every shift of his expression—until her mind just felt tired with it.

Maybe Skye was quietly hoping she’d take the hint. Oh Shards, she really hoped that wasn’t it.

Ivain studied her for a moment. “Must be bad if you’re willingly signing up for a strategy briefing.”

She gave him a tight smile. “You’re the only one in the house who hasn’t told me to go take a nap.”

She was also starved for news. The world had changed since she’d last been in it.

Ivain let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the desk beside her as she continued tidying. “I told them what any sane person would: defend the bloody walls. We hold the line, keep the city intact, and buy ourselves time to find a real solution. But no—lightships this, faith in the Fey that. Why waste resources fortifying when salvation is just over the horizon?”

Taly frowned. “The Dawn Courtmightcome, though.”

“They might,” he conceded grudgingly. “But the Gates made lightships obsolete millennia ago. The ones they have now? They’re slow as shit and barely functional. If they’re coming, it’ll take years—maybe decades depending on the state of the ships. I can’t imagine they’ve been maintained.”

“What are our chances of taking back the island?”

“Slim to none,” Ivain answered frankly. “We don’t have the numbers, the weapons, or the bloody location of the bastard. And even if we did”—he gestured sharply at the makeshift war table set up in the corner—“marching troops out there would just be handing him fresh bodies for his army.”

“What do the scouts say?” Taly asked, moving a pile of quills into their holder.

“Nothing useful. Aneirin’s not—”

“Bill,” she corrected.

Ivain sighed and waved her off. “Whatever you want to call him, he’s not some idiot general sitting in a tent waiting to be found. He’s dug in somewhere, and he’s damn good at keeping it that way. The closest we’ve come to him is you, and even that was in a dream.”

She smoothed the cover of Ivain’s logbook. “So, that’s it then? There’s nothing we can do?”

“There’s always something to do,” Ivain said. “So long as we’re alive, we’ll find a way. We’ll hold the walls. We’ll fight.Every day we don’t give him what he wants—this city, you, all of it—is a day he doesn’t win. Weather enough of those days, and the Aion Gate opens. And then… then the game changes.”

The desk looked marginally more presentable now, but the chaos of the war table pulled her attention. Taly stepped over, brushing her hand over the corner of the map to flatten it before nudging a few out-of-place markers into their proper positions. Red marked the undead forces, clustered ominously around the map. Then blue for their own defenders, ringing the walls of Ryme. Black were spies and scouts, some inside the city, others out.

And at the northern tip of the map, near the jagged coastline, was a small golden charm placed just beyond the line where the forest gave way to wasteland.

“What did they say when you brought up the Aion Gate?” Taly asked.

Behind her, Ivain sighed. “Most of them weren’t thrilled. Too risky,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What if it doesn’t open? What if it closes too fast? What if shades attack while we’re trying to evacuate?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “What if we just sit here like idiots and wait for Aneirin—sorry,Bill—to come knocking at our doors instead?”

The Aion Gate was a logistical nightmare, not to mention a costly drain on resources for what some might consider a gamble. Holding the location meant diverting soldiers and resources away from the city walls, all while hoping the enemy didn’t figure out what they were doing. If Aion didn’t open, all that effort would be wasted. If it did, they’d still have to fight to keep it secure long enough for an evacuation.