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My fingers are trembling as I strike the match. I hold my breath, willing myself to be steady. Finally, the match sparks alight; I set it to the brazier, letting it burn right down to my skin before I drop it into the new flames.

Therion watches as the smoke fills the room. The scent of it washes into my lungs, and a headache pulses at my temples. Dizzily, I crawl back to sit beside the others. Everything rocks and shifts as though we are still curled together in the swan boat, caught up by the violent waves.

Gently, Therion lays his palm against my face. His eyes are bright as coals. His claws stroke over my cheek, wiping away the tears that have risen from the stinging smoke. “You have to leave me here.”

I squint at him, my eyes burning, my head swimming. “What do you mean?”

“You have to leave me—leave both of us—here. I need to sleep beneath the salt, so I can heal. It’s the closest I can get to my own world without… returning. This is where I will be the safest.”

“We aren’t going to leave my brother behind to be buried alive,” Camille snaps. She pulls at Therion’s wrist, drawing him away from me. “If you’re going to stay here, then so are we.”

“It isn’t safe for you, mortal girls.”

“Technically, I am not mortal,” I remind him. His mouth tilts into a brief, faint smile.

“Even so, it will not be safe. You must leave me here until the end of the salt season.” Therion’s breath is labored, catching jaggedly in his throat. He turns back to Camille. “Your brother won’t be buried alive. While I am within him like this, he is protected.”

“No,” Camille says again. She lays her hand on Therion’s cheek, leaning close as she whispers. “Alastair,please.”

With a tremor, the silhouette of Therion fades as Alastair fights his way to coherence. He looks at Camille and me. Though his eyes are still tinged with amber, the lines of his face and the tone of his voice are solely human. “I will come back to you. This isn’t forever.”

Camille flings her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Alastair Felimath, you wretchedidiot.”

He strokes her hair, his eyes closing as he rests his cheek against the crown of her head. With his other hand, he reaches for me, and takes hold of my fingers in a feverish grasp. “Remember how I told you to be selfish, Lark?”

“No,” I protest. “Whatever you said, I don’t want it, not like this!”

Solemnly, he traces his thumb against my heartline, the softness of my palm. “We don’t get to pick and choose when to face danger.” He lowers his voice. Tears fill his eyes. “I need you to leave me here, with Therion. To go back and tell everyone I’m gone.”

I look at him with confusion. I feel I have missed something vital I need to understand. “Gone where, exactly?”

He lifts one shoulder in a laconic shrug, the gesture so irritatinglyAlastairthat a laugh snags in my throat. “Where no one can reach me.” He closes his eyes, gathering strength. Draws in a long, slow breath. “Even after the salt season, after Therion is healed, even if he can return to his world, we’ll never be safe. As long as Hugo suspects my connection to Therion, he’ll want his revenge. He’ll hunt us down. And Father… he’ll always be trying to carve us into the shape he wants: forcing Camille back to boarding school, treating you cruelly to remove you from our lives. He wants me alone at his side like a chained dog, trapped and desperate.”

“Then we’ll all run away,” Camille says fiercely.

I nod in agreement. “We’ll go somewhere so far that no one will find us.”

But Alastair only looks at us with aching sadness. “I don’t want to run, to spend my life forever hidden and hunted. I want to be with you, Lark, and with Camille. I want to travel the world, and buy too many books, and see every Caedmon painting. I want to come home and swim in the sea and walk on the cliffs. And I want to do it without being afraid.”

“I want that, too,” I say.

Camille leans her head on Alastair’s shoulder. “And so do I. Ionlywant this. But if we tell everyone you are”—she falters over the word—“gone, then you’ll never be able to come back home.”

I clutch at Alastair, wishing for another choice, for a way to hold back the inevitable. I think of our future, how the three of us might forge a path of our own choice. Free of those who would seek to exile us, or bind us, or make us feel worthless. None of this is what we were destined for, but we have spoken words from a dead language at the heart of the woods, fought our way here with the help of a god. We can seize this, choose this. We can make this ours.

“Only Hugo and your father need to believe it’s real. And after that, perhaps…” I trail off, unable to put into words such a tentative hope. That the future we’ve dreamed of, together, could be made real after this ruinous, impossible situation.

Camille dips her head, exhales a shuddering breath. “We will leave and tell them you—and Therion—are gone. We’ll let Hugo think he’s gotten what he wanted. Father will never hurt you again, Alastair. I promise.”

The three of us curl together beneath the rising smoke. Alastair pulls me toward him. My eyes flutter closed as he kisses the tears from my lashes.

“Mea Yvin Elevrh,” he whispers. Then his mouth is against mine and I am kissing him fiercely, tasting liquor and herbs as the brazier sparks and crackles by our feet. Camille’s fingers are at my nape, stroking the delicate place beneath my hair.

“You are mine,” I tell Alastair, the edge of my teeth against his lip. “You and Therion. And I will keep you safe.”

“I love you,” he says. And Therion’s voice follows, all smoke and darkness, echoing with otherworldly magic:“I love you, Lacrimosa.”

I hold them close, the god I was born for and the boy I’ve loved since the first moment we met. I think of sailing across the sea on a boat carved into the shape of a swan. Of long train rides, drowsing to the rock and sway of the carriage. Of galleries and bookstores, late nights beside a library fire. I think about the springtime ocean, cool and still beneath a brilliant moon as we dive under the cresting waves.