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To Killian’s credit, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

Doesn’t make a single move to defend himself.

He just remains standing in place, ready to receive whatever punishment I decide to give.

Probably because he knows that he’s right—unless I’m actively defending myself, I just don’t have it in me to hurt anyone.

But that still leaves me with a load of other options.

“I need you to stop talking and sit.” I hook my leg around a chair, slide it toward him, and watch as he obediently bends to my command.

Retrieving his muslin shirt from the floor where he dropped it, I tear the fabric into long strips and use them to tie Killian’s wrists behind his back. Then, I use the rest to bind his ankles to the legs of the chair.

“You know this won’t actually hold me, right?” His gaze tracks me as I pace about the room, trying to decide my next move. “You know the only reason you’re getting away with this is because I’ve chosen to cooperate.”

“Shut up,” I say. “Or do you want me to put a gag in your mouth?” My mind flashes back to when I silenced the duke with his own lace cravat.

“Shiv,” he says. “Please. Be reasonable. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just name it, and I’ll do it.”

“But you can’t,” I tell him. “It’s already done. Because of you, my dad is dead. Unless I decide to go back in time and get to you first.”

Killian sighs, closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he says, “Look, the portal doesn’t open until tomorrow. Which means you’re not going anywhere now. And I really don’t want to think about you traipsing around Bonfire of the Vanities day all on your own. I know we can work something out. I’m sure that—”

I roll my eyes and tune him out. Maybe our portal doesn’t open until tomorrow, but there’s another portal that Braxton came through. And considering how Cosimo knew where to send the coach to fetch us on our arrival, I’m betting they always use the same location. I only hope it’s not too late. I’ve wasted so much time already.

“Shiv, please,” Killian says. “I’m responsible for looking after you—and—I love you.”

I watch in astonishment as the lie slides from his lips. What’s even more shocking is the fact that he actually thinks that he means it.

Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that by trying to convince himself that he means it, he thinks he can convince me.

But really, what could a boy like Killian, a boy who works as Arthur’s Timekeeper assassin, know about love?

And what could I possibly know about it, either, seeing how I’ve treated Braxton—the boy I’d given my heart to.

Still, I look at Killian and say, “If that’s true—if you really do love me—then you won’t come after me, and you won’t let on to Arthur that I know anything you told me today.”

“So, you’re going back to Gray Wolf?” There’s a palpable relief in his voice.

“Where else would I go?” I ask. “It’s not like I can stay here.”

“Freya told me you were after the book, so I thought—”

Wait—Killian knows about the book?

And did he tell her about my going to Italy? Is that why Freya said buon viaggio just after she delivered my breakfast?

“You thought what?” I whirl on him. Crossing the space between us, I angle the tip of my dagger to his face. “Tell me, Killian. If you love me, you’ll—”

He frowns. “No need to exploit my feelings,” he says. “I’ll tell you because I’m serious about trying to make it up to you. It’s the least I can do. The book is hidden with my things in the trunk. Freya was going to give it to you at breakfast, but she said you copped an attitude, so—”

I make an impatient rolling motion with my hand. “What exactly does the book do?”

“It’s a book of magick,” he says. “The witches use it to time travel.”

I look at him, unsure if he’s telling the truth.