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“I think Demos, Rythos and I should go look for Daharak. After what just happened, Calysian likely won’t tolerate us traveling with you to find the grimoire. And if Vicana is as dangerous as you’ve said, we may need Daharak’s fleet.”

Grief threatens to swallow me whole. “They’re gone, Asinia. It’s the only explanation for the fact that no one has seen them.”

Asinia frowns, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If bygoneyou mean they likely sailed north when they couldn’t find you.”

I stare at her. “North?”

“To the northern continent. We don’t have proof,” she cautions. “But most of Daharak’s remaining fleet were seen in those waters. It makes sense that she would have met up with them after you disappeared. We have a ship. And I think we should look for them while you continue on with Calysian.”

“Yes,” I say, barely breathing. “I’d like that.”

“It’s settled then. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

Despite my newfound hope, my chest tightens. “I don’t want you to go.”

Surprise flashes through Asinia’s eyes and she grins at me. “You’re making progress. You never could have said those words in Eprotha.”

I walk back toward the fire, the familiar warmth of the flames offering little comfort. “Everything I learned about friendship, I learned from you, Prisca, and Daharak. And then I was all alone. For three years. It did something to me, Asinia. The loneliness, combined with the grimoire I used…it made me a little…mad. I sunk power into the thorns surrounding my prison and grew them large and sharp enough to kill. And Ireveledin their deaths.”

“Do you think anyone could blame you for that? Do you think Prisca would? All of us have done things we’re not proud of to stay alive.”

“But have youenjoyedthem the way I did?”

Asinia tuts. “You’re so quick to paint yourself as a villain, Madinia.”

I shrug, and we fall into silence as we begin to pack for tomorrow morning. Each time I close my eyes, all I see is the rage in Calysian’s eyes, the cold wrath when he thought Rythos had used that power on me.

He would have killed Rythos if he’d learned he’d aimed his power my way. And yet I allowed Rythos to attempt such a thing with him.

Rythos returns, his gaze flying to mine as he strides across the clearing with the fae grace I used to loathe. “You can barely look at me.”

“You did what we asked. I don’t blame you.” I, more than anyone, know what it cost him.

He sighs. “And yet you blame yourself. You once told me that if we were going to win, we had to use every weapon available to us.”

“That’s the problem. It doesn’t feel like winning when Calysian is going to lose so much.”

We eat, feed the horses, talk quietly to each other. But Calysian doesn’t return. I’m distracted, unable to enjoy my last night with the others. It’s only the knowledge that Calysian wouldn’t leave Fox behind that prevents me from searching for him.

Clearly, he wants to be left alone.

I can’t blame him.

The sleeping mat is narrow, and yet it feels empty without his large body curling around mine.

Annoyance flashes through me. I swore I wouldn’t pine for Calysian, and yet here I am, already unable to sleep without him near me.

It’s infuriating.

Night gives way to dawn, the cool breeze stirring tree branches above my head, casting flickering sunlight across my face.

Finally, I abandon any hope of sleep, sitting up and curling my arms around my knees. I’m not the only one with heavy-lidded eyes. On the other side of the fire, Demos leans into Asinia, murmuring something that makes her smile before kissing his way down her cheek to her mouth.

I look away, swallowing the ache.

Wishing won’t change anything. Wanting is a waste of time.

I dress, eat, pack, attend to the horses. All while scanning the clearing for any sign of Calysian.