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My mind races. Personally, I want Kyldare dead. I don’t trust him, and I don’t even want to breathe the same air as him.

A muscle ticks in Calysian’s jaw, and he turns to pace. A strange sense of unease trickles into my gut.

“I know what I need to do,” he says finally as he turns to face me. His shirt clings to his chest, his muscles rippling as he places his hands on his hips.

He gives me the kind of slow smile that tells me he knows exactly where my attention drifted. But his gaze flicks back towards Kyldare, and his expression hardens. “I need you to trust me.”

The last time he asked me to trust him, he pulled my own power from me, ruthlessly using my link to his grimoire.

And yet, he has also saved my life. Many times.

My stomach tightens. “Calysian. That’s not how this works.”

Both of us know the unspoken rules. We can trust each other with our lives, but no more than that. Not for the first time, I wish things could be different.

“It’s the way it needs to work.”

I study his face. Darkness still lurks within his eyes, but I catch a glimpse of frustrated impatience.

“Are you going to tell me why?” I ask.

“No.”

My nails dig into my palms as I wrestle with my instincts. Calysian steps closer, his eyes glittering with sympathy. It helps, that he knows how difficult this is for me. Because giving anyone any measure of trust is just as difficult for him.

“Fine.”

He gives me an approving look, his hands sweeping over my shoulders. His mouth brushes mine, and I breathe him in.

“We shouldn’t leave him for long,” he says against my lips, and I nod.

Kyldare is lounging against the tree trunk at his back, one leg stretched out in front of him. But he fails to hide the sullen set of his mouth, the rage glittering in his eyes.

Calysian angles his head. “Tell me about the trap.”

“If we’re truly allies, you have to remove these chains.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” I snap.

“Then I won’t tell you anything. Go ahead and kill me,” he says. “It will be a mercy compared to what Vicana would do to me.” For once, his voice rings with honesty.

With a shrug, Calysian pulls his sword. “Fine.”

He strolls toward Kyldare, who jolts, holding up his hands. “Wait!”

“I’m losing patience.” Calysian’s voice is frigid. “Speak.”

Kyldare’s gaze finds mine, and I almost shiver at the hatred within his eyes. He’s a coward whoknowshe’s a coward. And he hates that the woman he tortured and victimized can see just how much of a coward he is. “Vicana wants you dead,” he tells me.

Calysian’s shoulders tense. “Why?”

“The queen has wanted the grimoires since she learned of them. The moment she heard you knew the location of the first one, she expected to have it in her hands within days. Madinia ensured that didn’t happen.”

“And the trap?” Calysian growls.

“Three regiments,” Kyldare says. “Unchain me. You know I won’t go anywhere. I have nowhere to go.”

Calysian is still for a long moment. I stare at the back of his head, wishing I could see what he’s thinking. Distantly, I wonder where Eamonn is. If he were here, Kyldare wouldn’t have been able to take me by surprise. And Eamonn would be able to tell us where Vicana’s regiments are.