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That was… odd.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his gaze curious as he walked beside me, his eyes following me. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably because my personal magic was always more intimately connected to the shadows than the court’s magic, which I currently possess. So the shadows probably feel like you’re one of them. Their queen, even.”

I didn’t hate the idea of being a shadow. Staying under everyone’s radar, completely untouchable. No one could hurt me if I didn’t want to be hurt, or find me if I didn’t want to be found.

The freedom… stars, I would give anything for that kind of freedom.

“Make your shadows touch my arm then, so I know the difference,” I countered, deciding to ignore that last fact about being the shadows’ queen.

He glanced over at me, and a ribbon of shadow stretched off Namir’s arm, reaching for my bare palm. The ribbon shifted in the air, becoming a shadowed version of Namir’s hand.

His shadowed fingers slipped between mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. It felt… warm. Soft. Blissful.

“Damn,” I remarked, withdrawing my hand from the shadowed one.

Namir pulled it away, flashing me a knowing smile. “You asked.”

“How did you know it would feel different, though?” I countered. “You said the shadows don’t interact with anyone else like this.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You probably don’t want to know this answer,” he told me. “But to be honest, your shadows feel different to me than these ones.” He gestured to the ones playing with my hair and dancing around me. “They feel warm, and comfortable.”

Double damn.

“Thank you for being honest,” I said, turning my face back to the forest. Though I wasn’t sure what to think about his words, I knew that I never wanted to be lied to again. I’d had more than enough lies to last me a lifetime while I was chained. My abusers had teased and taunted me, given hope and then taken it away as another form of their torture.

“Of course.” Namir sounded surprised, but didn’t ask for details about why I was so grateful for his honesty.

“You can still leave, you know,” I told him, wanting to make sure he knew as well as I did that he was free to leave. He seemed to think he needed to follow me, or something. “If I die, it won’t be on your conscience. I chose to leave, and you don’t owe me anything. Your magic saved my life, even if it destroyed it too.”

“I know.” He left it at that, his voice almost amused.

“You know what?”

“That I can leave. I’m following you by choice, remember?”

Right.

“But why?” I pressed. “I just freed you of all responsibility.”

He chuckled. “You can’t free me of my conscience, Diora. I’m here because I want to be, and I’m trying to teach you magic because I want to see you learn. I don’t want you to fear the shadows; they’ve become a part of you.”

“A part of me I’d like to be free of,” I grumbled.

He chuckled. “I think we all have those parts of us.”

I scowled. “I can’t imagine the Shadow King has any part of himself he’d like to be free of. Look at you.” I gestured to his abdomen, and he glanced down.

“I’m not sure what you see, but I’m just a man. I’ve struggled with my magic, same as anyone, but on a much larger scale. I carry a hatred for one of my brothers that I wish I could be free of. My determination to wait for my true mate has earned me much scorn and disapproval from those who both support me and despise me. And there are still nights where I don’t sleep, because when I close my eyes, my mother’s hatred stares back at me,” he said honestly.

The amount of truthful, vulnerable information he had just handed me made me stop in my tracks.

I turned, and looked at him.