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“Do you—do you want to come in?” he asks. He stumbles over the words. I have never heard him stumble before.

“Yes,” I answer.

He steps aside. I find a room identical to mine. Though at the sight of his tub, I wonder how he managed to fit in the thing. I barely fit into mine.

There’s a chair and a desk and a bed. Nothing else. Marossa has not cultivated the same style of opulence that Skiro has.

For some reason I can’t look at the bed directly.

More silence ensues as Kellyn watches me take in the room. He’s dressed in a similar nightrobe to mine, though he has the strings at the neck loosely undone.

“Temra is in Petrik’s room,” I blurt as soon as my mind snags on something to say.

“Is she?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Why do I do this to myself? I think I can be brave and do hard things, and then I throw myself into these mortifying situations that make me wish I were dead.

Please, please, can the ceiling collapse and the floor swallow me whole?

When I can’t stand the new silence any longer, I say, “Please say something. I need you to take the lead right now. I know you want me to step it up and initiate things. And I’ve been trying so very hard. Please tell me you’ve noticed?” Before he can answer, as though my mouth has a tidal wave pressing against it and the wordsmustcome out, I continue. “I’ve been touching you. Initiating kisses. Striking up conversations. You said you wanted an equal partner, and I’ve beentrying, Kellyn, but it’s so hard. And I don’t know if I can do it all the time anymore. Can we say I’ve learned my lesson? Can we please initiate things equally now? Can you please meet me halfway?”

I gulp down air after the words are out, as though I just ran a race instead of speaking so many words in one go.

“What!” Kellyn says, his voice incredulous.

“Please don’t make me repeat all of that. I’m certain I’ve already forgotten half of it.”

In fact, all I can focus on now is the tight bunching under my skin. The discomfort. Always discomfort. I try to focus on the good. On being near Kellyn. I just need to push through the agitation. It will fade eventually. It always does where he’s concerned.

“I heard you,” he clarifies. “But I don’t understand. Whenever did I say you needed to initiate things?”

“After you hit your head in the woods. When you were shot.You said you were sick of pursuing me. You said you were backing off because you wanted an equal partner, and you wanted me to make an effort for once.”

“I really said that?”

I nod, daring to look at him. “Did you not mean it? Was that your concussion talking?”

“Yes, I mean no. I mean, Iwasfeeling that at the time, but I had no idea I said it aloud. And I can’t believe I said it so bluntly. I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t have happened that way.”

“I’m glad you said something! I thought you didn’t want me anymore. You were pulling back. Not talking. Not touching me. I didn’t know what to think!”

“But I told you! In the inn, Itoldyou I still wanted you!”

“But then you pulled away. You didn’t bring it up. You stopped acting like yourself. I thought you might have changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind,” he deadpans.

“Yes!”

“In just a matter of hours?”

“Yes! Why should I listen to your words when your actions speak something different? I’m glad, because you dared me to be braver. To go after what I want. And what I want is you.”

The full force of his gaze hits me like a lightning strike. I continue, “But please don’t make me take charge all the time. Can we please take turns now?”

His gaze softens into something endearing. “Yes, of course we can.”