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Evrardin strolled deeper into the heart of Kairth, steadily approaching the dungeons. When he made it to that familiar door, dread consumed him knowing Crowrot wouldn’t be inside. He had entered the dungeons since Crowrot’s death, but the guilt hit harder each time.

He fisted his hands, his knuckles turning white as he entered. He had killed Crowrot, his truest friend, and now Mara, the woman he had grown to love. Only destruction cultivated from his hands no matter how much he tried to stop it. Perhaps he should just stop trying altogether. He wasn’t sure how he kept moving, how he hadn’t fallen over from despair yet. Perhaps his curse was forcing him to stay alive, to not allow himself to collapse to the floor in pain at what he had done.

Rumbling noises echoed down the catacombs and he gritted his teeth. He felt like he was walking in a nightmare—and not just today, but ever since Acastus bound him, every day was torturous.

The iron from the door dragged along the cobblestones behind him and Evrardin turned, surprised when a woman tumbled into the room. Her eyes were ablaze as she looked around, searching. Then she landed on him and her face went white.

“Gods,” Mara cursed at herself, her voice stuck in her throat, raspy and worn.

Mara .

Evrardin didn’t move, caught in a trance. He couldn’t process what unfolded before him—was his mind playing tricks?

Mara swallowed before whispering his name, both of them gawking at one another. He wobbled sideways, catching himself on the workbench, all the air knocked out of him. Her hair was disheveled, her dress dirty and torn. Tears welled in her eyes, and she seemed to be breathing rapidly, unable to truly catch her breath.

He could not make sense of her presence. The silence ricocheted between them, the thrum of his heart loud in his ears.

Finally, he spoke. “Princess…” The last thing he remembered was her lying sprawled beneath him, bleeding out on the cathedral floor, all his doing. His knife the culprit. His hands marred in her blood. And he left her there, too.

She sucked in a sharp breath, a whimper forming in the back of her throat and she took several steps toward him. She kept moving, kept getting closer. Evrardin was waiting for the moment his eyes would adjust, and he’d realize this was all a hallucination, but the closer she got, the more she looked like herself. She stood in front of him silently. Then her lip pursed and tears began to fall down her cheeks in a rushing rivulet. She hiccuped, sobbing with her whole being. It took Evrardin several seconds before he reached for her, before he placed his hands on either side of her face. Knew she was real beneath his fingertips.

She admired him through red eyes, an emotion he didn’t deserve from her. His thumb inefficiently wiped away her abundance of tears. She opened her mouth, her breathing unsteady, and spoke in a broken lilt. “Do not let your mind convince you this is all a trick. I’m really here, Captain.”

His lips curled to speak, but nothing came out, his eyes blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. She sounded like Mara. Looked like Mara. “How?”

“I fear we don’t have the time for me to explain.”

He shook his head. Mara’s tears slowed, solemnly smiling, Evrardin’s hands caging her as he studied the expanse of her face. He stared at her like he hadn’t heard a word she spoke. “Princess, how the fuck are you standing here? Have I gone mad?”

One of her hands reached out to grip his tunic, her fingers twisting the fabric roughly. “No. I’m here. I used the tome Crowrot gave to me. Conducted a lygi invocation.” She gave him a little shrug.

His eyes danced between hers, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he thought it might bruise his ribs. His hands pawed at her, sliding up and down her arms in choppy movements. Then his knees couldn’t stand it any longer. He collapsed to the ground before her, making her gasp.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body into him so his head was buried in her skirts. His chest heaved, his vision growing dark. One of her hands stroked through his hair, letting him hold her tighter, his grip sure to leave bruising marks. He could hear her crying continue, her body shaking as she held him against her. Fuck , she was truly here… alive.

“Evrardin…” Mara muttered, her voice laced with mild astonishment.

He breathed her in—her lavender scent—his fingers grasping at the softness of her dress, leaving a trail of bloody handprints. He pulled back and tilted his head to look at her, resting his chin on her stomach, all inhibition lost to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he let his emotions command his body on their own accord.

Mara cried and yet her smile was so wonderfully bright, her fingers halting their movements through his hair, tentative to his reaction. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d get on your knees for me,” she said timidly.

He chuckled a warm, broken sound. Then he smiled back. Truly smiled. A foreign feeling—a reason to grin from ear to ear. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relieved and grateful. “I’d do anything you ask of me.”

Mara’s eyebrows knitted together.

He stood in one swift movement, his arms trailing her back. Mara opened her mouth to say something, but the sound was muffled by Evrardin slanting his lips over hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears. No other thoughts mattered to him at this moment. Not the fact that the princess was officially wed to the prince. Or how the undead warriors were rising through the mirrors of Kairth. Even the impending doom from Acastus’ fallacy shrouding the castle was lost to his mind. The only thing consuming him was Mara and the relief that she was alive.

Evrardin moved hastily over her lips like she might slip through his fingers again at any moment. His hands held her lower waist against his hips, moving to hold her face between them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat as Mara went onto the tips of her toes to push against him harder. He moved against her so roughly she was forced back against the wall, a small mewl escaping her as she collided with the stone. His lifeless heart began to beat again.

His hand slid to her neck, his fingers hooking around that godforsaken necklace she still wore, and he gave one sharp tug. The chain broke and he threw the cursed jewel to the floor. She gasped and he unwillingly tore his mouth from hers, both of them clawing for air, his head only a fraction of an inch away from hers, his breath fanning over her lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted.

Mara looked at him through her lashes before dropping her face, his hands falling down but still trailing along her skin as if he was afraid to fully let go.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” she told him. “For not telling you my plan.”

“Mara, I told you not to tell me any details. It’s my fault.” She turned her attention back to his face. “Either way, it’s my fault. I’m the one who drove a—” His words slipped, unable to speak of what he did in the Old God’s Cathedral.

She shushed him. “No more blaming. We are not at fault.”

His hand clutched one of hers while she dug through her pocket and pulled out a vile of darkened blood, holding it between them. “What is this?” he asked, tentatively taking it from her grip.

“Aevum’s blood.”

His eyes darted to hers in disbelief.

“I know how to break your curse, Evrardin.” She smiled, her teeth peeking out between her lips. He had the urge to push her against the wall and attack her mouth again, but he refrained. Now was not quite the time. And he prayed to the gods he didn’t believe in that there would be a time—that he’d have so much more time with her.

“With Aevum’s blood?” His tone icy like it usually was when he mocked her.

Her eyes danced around the room. “Well… not exactly. But yes.”

“Mara, what is happening?”

“It’s too long a story to tell, but I know now that I need Acastus’ blood to break your binding to him. And I thought that might be a little tricky given the situation”—she gestured around her in mirth—“so, I thought Aevum’s might work in his stead. Same blood.” She bit her lip and shrugged again.

“ Liten rev , I don’t want you to?—”

“You don’t need to fight me on this.” She gave him a stern look before yanking the vile out of his hands, popping off the cork, and downing it in one thick gulp.

Evrardin’s eyes rounded. He froze as he watched her, her lips slightly red from the viscous liquid. “You downed that rather easily,” he mused with a concerned expression, almost convinced she had done this before.

“Maybe I’m secretly a vampyre.” He went to open his mouth, but she shook her head. “Let me concentrate.” He nodded. “Okay,” she said extremely gently, like coaxing a scared kitten.

She closed her eyes and Evrardin figured she was speaking to herself in her mind. She reached for his hands, holding until she finished praying, and his fingers clenched around hers. His eyes roved over her face. Over her soft pink cheeks. Over the slight pout of her lips. Over her messy hair that hung in wild ringlets. He understood how men could go feral, barbaric even, for a woman. How wars might be started over their beauty. Because now, with her back, palpable in his hands, he knew he’d burn anything that dared to threaten her. He’d fall on his sword sooner than bring a dagger to her skin again.

She fluttered her eyes open, and he expected some bright light to beam from her and onto him, but nothing of the sort happened. A dreadful feeling swarmed in his gut, worried this hadn’t worked.

She took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

He paused. “What?”

“Do something he forbade.” She looked at him expectantly, but he could see the nerves riddling her, worried this had all been for nothing.

He danced between thoughts in his head, shifting through all the things Cas had cursed him not to do. He could waltz up to the prince and slit his throat with ease. Or begin to walk in the opposite direction of the catacombs. Tell Mara of every ill plan the prince had lined up. Strip himself of the armor he was instructed to wear. Leave Kairth behind and walk straight out the front gates. There were plenty of options to test Mara’s ability to break curses. So he surprised himself when he opened his mouth.

“I fear I’ve grown to love you, liten rev ,” he said softly. A sentiment so unfamiliar to him, he was surprised his lips had the ability to move in that manner, to shape those words. Words he had been forbidden to utter.

Mara’s eyes lit and she sputtered. “W-What?”

“Gods be fucked, you did it.” He took her into his arms and spun her once before dropping her back to her feet. She giggled and the sound would have made him succumb to her if he hadn’t already.

“Evrardin,” she said out of breath, “why did you…?”

He tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear, looking at her longingly, his expression wistful. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, the darkness shrouding him. “The prince forbade me from ever speaking my feelings for you.”

“What? Why?”

He grunted. “Guess he saw me as a threat.”

“When did he do that?”

Heat rose to his cheeks at how long ago Cas commanded that of him. He had only known Mara for two days and already his feelings for her seemed to be lingering on his words—at least enough to make Acastus angry.

“You love me?” she asked.

He nodded. “Afraid I do.”

Before Mara could reply, they were jostled back to reality, the ground shaking beneath their feet.

“Fuck,” Evrardin all but growled.

“What is that?”

“The Sun Warriors.” Ev grabbed Mara’s hand and began to lead her away from the catacombs, no longer having to heed Acastus’ orders to stay in the dungeon. “Acastus summoned them from all the dead soldiers I… killed . They’re waking up. I have to sever the tie Acastus made with the Veil.”

“ We ,” Mara corrected.

Evrardin looked down at her and he pulled her along. “No. I’m not risking?—”

Before he could finish, Mara hiked her skirt up and pulled the long dagger from Evrardin’s room she had strapped to her hip.

Evrardin marveled at it. Then his eyes focused on hers and narrowed. “Have you been in my room?”

A blush rose to her cheeks. “I went looking for you… Then I found Aevum and stuck him in there.”

He nodded.

“That reminds me, I think it’s time you tell me how pretty and humorous I can be,” she said, quoting him. “You know, now that you can speak freely.”

Mild confusion was quickly snuffed out by a mischievous smirk that teetered on anger. “Sneaky liten rev, ” he cursed, a slight grin playing on his lips, hiding his bashfulness at realizing she must have read the humiliating letter he wrote to her, solely to get relief from the flood of feelings he was developing, never intending for her to read it.

The castle shook again and Evrardin pulled Mara against his chest to steady her, stones crumbling around them.

“Something happened to Cas,” Evrardin muttered into her hair as he held her.

When the building stopped moving, Mara looked up at him, waiting for him to go into more detail.

“He was tricked. This whole time he thought he was working for Trana, but it was a svik .”

“ The esteemed Sun Prince was fooled by a demon in disguise?” she asked with spite. “Does that mean his plans won't work?”

“Afraid not. A svik is powerful enough to connect the realms on their own—to bring about an army of warriors, at least with the hearts he was given in exchange. But he took Acastus’ place, leaving Cas a feathered mess on the ground last I saw. Seems he’s finally fully transformed.”

“What does that mean for the svik ? Why would he want the army?”

“I don’t know. I think he just wanted to be human—Cas was his best bet. And an army on his side doesn’t hurt if he wants to remain alive.” Evrardin shook his head. “If we can sever the realms, the Sun Warriors won’t have the energy flowing through them any longer.”

“I don’t think the svik’s shift will hold. The heart he took, it wasn’t my real heart. I don’t know how long it will last, but it will fade eventually.”

Evrardin’s eyes danced between hers and he relished in her scrutiny that once filled him with vexation.