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“And so, while the child slept, the father cast a spell of unconsciousness over her. He cut out the eye that was black as midnight and tossed it into the fire, where it wailed and hissed and lashed out in a serpent of flame. Their home caught fire, but the father grabbed his wife and carried the child outside, and they watched that fiery serpent consume their home. When the flames subsided, the night fell quiet and dark, and the child opened her one blue eye, and said, ‘Thank you, Father, for you have done for me what I could not do for myself.’ Morat never had a hold on her again, though she could still see into his underworld. And that is the story of the great scryer of Talmut.”

Alder sat quiet for a long time, and Seph realized she still had her hand in his hair. She drew it back, and the Weald Prince lifted his head just enough to look at her. The lantern light bronzed his skin and turned his gray eyes silver, but his features tightened as his gaze settled on her neck. “I could have killed you.” His voice was ragged and raw.

“But you didn’t.”

A crease formed between his brows. He looked like he might touch her, like he wanted—and feared—to see what damage he had done.

Seph pulled her neckline to the side so that he could see. “I’m still alive, see? As it turns out, I am more powerful than you.” She held up the little ring with a smile, trying to ease his mood.

“Fates, Josephine, I…” He dragged his hands over his face. “I am so sorry.”

Seph didn’t tell him that it was all right; clearly, it was not. But he hadn’t done it consciously, so she would not fault him for it.

She handed him a chalice of water.

He looked at the chalice—not her––closing his eyes and draining it with one long gulp before setting it down upon the floor.

“That night in the tower,” Seph said. “When I went upstairs and you were gone…you weren’t actually checking our perimeter. You were in that cellar, battling this, weren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it.

“Will you tell them?” he asked quietly.

Well, that answered her other question. No one knew about his struggle, and more than anything else, he feared what they would do if they found out. Considering the terms in which he’d left Weald, exile would be a mercy.

Seph shook her head. “No, but…does Abecka know?”

“She suspects something, but I doubt she realizes…the extent.”

His tone implied that if Abeckadidrealize, she wouldn’t be nearly so amenable as she had been, and for the briefest moment, Seph felt this overwhelming urge to touch him again, to wrap her arms around him, to lend him her strength so that he didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

Whatever this burden was.

“What happened to you?” Seph asked quietly.

Alder’s next breath shuddered, and she wondered if he was going to tell her, but he shook his head. She suspected it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her, but more that he was too weary and laden with guilt.

Seph could wait. When he wasn’t so exhausted, and when he wasdressed. For now…

“How can I help you?” Seph asked. “More water? Are you hungry? I could see if?—”

He grabbed her arm gently but firmly, stopping her words. “I’m all right, Josephine. You have already done more than I deserve.”

He said her name so softly, so intimately, it stirred something within her soul.

“Is it like this every night?” she asked after a moment.

His eyes cracked open a sliver, though he stared ahead. “Not every night, and I can’t—” His features strained, and he released her arm to drag his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what provokes it. I’m still able to wrestle it down, though it had been getting worse until…” He paused and swallowed whatever he’d been about to say, and his gaze met hers.

The lantern light softened his features and deepened his gaze, and Seph’s entire being pulsed with warmth. Saints, he was so beautiful, and the way he was looking at her…no one had ever looked at her like that before. Not even Elias. It was the same way she’d seen her grandfather look at Nani sometimes when he thought no one was watching, and though Alder hadn’t finished his thought, Seph knewshewas involved with whatever he’d been about to say. Something aboutherhad made his suffering less severe. Was it related to this connection she felt to him?

Perhaps he felt it too.

She opened her mouth to ask, but her heart started pounding, and all the words stuck on her tongue. Now, with danger vanquished, Seph was acutely aware of how close they were seated, in the dark, on the floor of his bedchamber, with a blanket covering his nakedness.

Alder must have noticed too, because his jaw ticked and he glanced away.

The quiet stretched and pulled.