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Amusement stretched her mouth. “It looks better on you,” she whispered.

I actually chuckled under my breath. Passing her, I noted the long bow. Speaking quiet and quick, I said, “A spiraled arrowhead. That would suit you.”

She considered that and nodded at me. Then she vanished into the trees.

***

Naturally, I ended up in the dungeon. Brick covered the walls and floor, flames streaming from the lanterns suspended on horizontal hooks along the facade. From one of the cells, a gravely voice swore and another hacked.

The scent of damp soil and rancid armpits greeted me. This was where they dumped true criminals. Assassins and kidnappers and bandits and violators—and thieves.

A grilled door howled open. Someone jabbed my shoulder until I hobbled inside the cell, a nothing space. Nothing against the walls, nothing on the ground.

Fear pinched me every time I thought about Mother. Would they summon her? Would they condemn her, too? Would they accuse her of knowing all along?

What about Punk? And Lyrik? And Nicu?

The door winced shut, the noise reverberating down my spine—because I had a spine now. Hopefully, I’d know to use it.

I loitered in the center of the cell. I hadn’t been able to spy on Aire amongst the dungeon guards, though I’d felt him near.

I saw him now. Through the grille, I saw his body bathed in weak light, his hair a beacon. His chin tipped toward the ground. His hands rested on his hips.

“Leave us,” he ordered the guards without looking up.

After the men and women dispersed, I stood with bated breath, but Aire didn’t move. Not until I did, a scant step toward him, the irons around my legs echoing.

I missed his eyes on me. I missed him smiling at me.

His head dragged upward, inch by inch, as if forcing himself to look at me. As if he couldn’t stand it otherwise.

At last, steel plates of blue hit me hard. Deadpan, enigmatic, and impenetrable.

“Tell me, lady,” he clipped. “What else have you kept from me?”

“Aire, stop it.” My voice dangled on strings. “This isn’t you.”

“Pray tell, how would you presume to know that? Are we so familiar with each other, or had we merely scratched the surface?”

“The truth was impossible when we met. It was impossible until we trusted each other—”

“Trust!” he roared. “You dare to speak of trust? You stole the very thing Robin died trying to protect!”

“I didn’t know—”

“Nor would that have made any difference to you!”

“Did you actually think you meant more to me than my mother?”

“No,” he spat. “I thought I meant more to you than your lies.”

I shook my head. “I had to help her. She’s mymother.”

“Robin was mywife.”

I cried, “Where does that leave us? How am I supposed to compete with that?”

When he made no reply, I kept babbling, “I never expected this to happen with you. Everywhere we went together, every moment we spent together, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell by the fire pit, on the swings, out in the glade—”