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O RION TOWERED OVER THE SCENE —three bodies laid out in his drawing room, two loved ones exhausted from earlier heart magic, and one problem in the shape of Briony Rosewood.

Serena came to her feet, reaching for her albatross, who’d come back with Orion. The bird landed on her arm and nuzzled her cheek.

“It’s almost done,” Serena said.

Orion looked between Reighven and Cohle. “Tell me.”

“Cohle is dead.” Serena’s voice was tired but firm.

Orion lifted a brow, his mind seeming to run through several scenarios at once.

“So, he attempted to abscond with Miss Rosewood, I presume,” Orion said, and Briony was shocked how quickly he chose the same path as Serena.

“He tortured Toven,” Serena said. “And I killed him.”

Orion still stared down at Cohle’s body as he nodded slowly.

Briony looked up at Toven. He was swaying on his feet, clearly needing rest. He’d been using heart magic to subdue Reighven and the nurse, depleting himself further.

“And Reighven?” Orion asked, turning his attention to the other man.

“He was knocked out early on,” Serena said.

“And the nurse?”

“She saw it all, and then was knocked out.”

Orion lowered himself next to Reighven. “You should have waited for me. If she recognizes your needle—”

“It was Briony,” Serena said. “I guided her.”

Orion closed his eyes in exasperation and then opened them on Briony. His mouth was set in a grim line.

“Well then, Miss Rosewood,” Orion said silkily. “Show me your work.”

Like he was one of the tutors at school.

Briony swallowed, and then nodded to Toven to bring Reighven back up from unconsciousness.

Sliding back inside Reighven’s mind was even less appealing the second time. She stumbled through several terrible images and memories she didn’t wish to see before Orion firmly guided her to that morning—much less gently than Serena had.

Orion stood at her shoulder as they watched the scene.

He made her go over every second, positioning them in different places in the room.

His technique wasn’t with a thread but with a pen, rewriting instead of sewing over.

Where Serena was a needle sliding past minuscule holes in fabric, Orion was a well-inked pen, gliding and meeting no resistance.

When he pulled them out, he stared at Briony with displeasure.

“Sloppy, but serviceable. Take her upstairs, Toven.”

Briony narrowed her eyes at him. Her bookshelves shook with the first emotion that threatened to break her walls—irritation.

“We’ll need a dead body, too,” she said. “I let the second nurse go.”

She stood and turned her back on Orion Hearst, walking away before he could say another word to her that wasn’t Thank you .

***

A pair of footsteps followed her up the stairs.

She didn’t say a word to him all the way up to her room. When he followed her inside, she turned to face him.

Toven quietly shut the door behind him, his eyes carefully on her the entire time.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He watched her, waiting for something.

“I won’t release my mind barriers until after Mallow has come and gone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There would be too much too suddenly. It could take too long to build up her mental defenses again, and there was no telling how long they had until Mallow arrived.

“I’m worried about the opposite, actually,” Toven said. She stared at him blankly. “You should let go. You’re holding back too much. Maintaining this level of barrier for this level of circumstances won’t help you in the long run.”

He spoke as if he knew. He spoke as if he knew this level of barrier intimately.

“How—” She stuttered. “How long have you been practicing mind barriers?” she asked.

His face was impassive as he said, “A long time.”

She nodded slowly. It explained so much that she’d suspected.

“And your parents?” she said. “All three of the Hearsts are talented mind magicians?”

He betrayed nothing. He moved forward toward her. “You need to release, rest, and replenish.”

“Mallow could be here any moment—”

“You’ve erected shields in stressful circumstances before. You can do it again.” He stood before her. “You need to deal with Cohle, so that he can live in the library of your mind undisturbed.”

The book named Cohle slid forward inside her mind. She swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to.”

“Briony,” he whispered, and she swayed toward him like the tide. “Your heart was ripped today. Let your mind heal it.”

A tremor whispered across her skin. His eyes were unguarded on her, and she forced herself to meet them.

There was a body in the grass.

And her hand was in a fist.

The book named Cohle dropped to the floor, and a wind shushed the pages open.

The cold emptiness rushed up, the howl of death surrounded her, and the piece of her heart that had ripped open cawed like a moon-black raven.

Her lips parted, and the final sigh of innocence slithered out of her.

He blurred in her vision.

“I killed someone,” she said, voice trembling in a way she hadn’t let it in hours.

Toven nodded. “You took a life. It was your first?”

Her chest shook, and she slapped a palm over her mouth. “What did I do?” Her eyes were wide and bright and full of unshed tears.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her arms. “You did what was necessary to protect yourself.”

She leaned into his weight, and at last her tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. “To protect you.” Her throat clicked as she hurried to add, “Your mother. All of us.”

There was a body in the grass and her hand was in a fist.

She had squeezed the life out of him with his back turned. He hadn’t seen her coming.

Briony gasped soundlessly on a sob, trying to draw air into her lungs, but failing.

She was in Toven’s arms, her forehead pressed against his collar. His shirt was wet with her grief.

“My heart will never be the same,” she whispered, voice reedy.

“You did what was necessary,” he rumbled, words she felt as much as heard. “You did what I didn’t have the power to do.”

She let his voice wash over her. She remembered that day in the Trow dungeon—how she had Reighven’s heart in her palm for one moment.

She could have finished him then and maybe escaped with Katrina.

She hadn’t had the strength that day, but today was different, and she couldn’t help but think that having Toven’s life in the balance was the difference.

Her legs gave out as her heart beat a rhythm over and over— killer, killer, killer .

Toven lifted her in his arms, and as she sobbed and gulped for air, she wished she wasn’t so weak about this. She wished she had never let her emotions rise past her throat and into her mind. She wished he wasn’t seeing her like this.

He laid her on her bed, and she curled into herself, bawling in pain.

The missing piece of her heart ached.

And it wasn’t just the act of killing Cohle.

It was the oil on her skin from Reighven’s mind, his memories of her naked body.

It was the nameless nurse who she’d given the chance she couldn’t have—the way her heart needed to hope that he could find Sammy.

It was Phoebe—knowing that she’d lost a child she couldn’t have wanted and her chance at one she did, all in the same day.

It was Cordelia, husked. The note about the dragon that Briony wished had been from her, so that she knew Cordelia was still in there, still fighting.

And it was Rory. Rory whom she hadn’t said goodbye to because she was so confident in a prophecy that was nothing but nursery rhymes. Rory who marched into battle over and over because Briony knew it was right. She knew he was the one. And he believed her, the fool.

Briony’s throat was raw, and she realized she’d been howling through the pain inside her heart. Her face was hot with tears and her muscles were sore with shaking.

And two arms were still around her.

She sucked in a shaking breath as she came back into her body. Toven was wrapped around her, holding her back against his chest. His thighs were flush with the backs of hers, and she could finally recognize the breath on her neck, disturbing her hair.

Briony’s eyes dropped, and she found a muscular hand wrapped around her fist, the black gem ring winking at her.

As her grief and panic and sorrow ebbed away with each shaky breath, she grounded herself with the feeling of his chest pressed to her back. His heartbeat thumped against her spine, slow and steady. She breathed in deeply, finding comfort in the press of her ribs into his.

As her tears dried up and her breathing returned to normal, she waited for him to pull away—for him to excuse himself—for his duty to be complete.

It didn’t come.

Briony watched the sun inch down the sky and traced the veins in Toven’s hands with her eyes.

If he wasn’t worried about what could be happening downstairs, then she wasn’t, either. Mallow herself could burst into the room, her dragon could breathe fire on all of Hearst Hall, and Briony would still hold on to this moment for a second longer.

Quietly, half hoping he was sleeping, she said, “Did it feel like this after your first kill?”

For a moment, she wondered if he wouldn’t respond, but then his voice rumbled into her chest, his air puffing across her neck. “Yes.”

She used to hold him in a separate box in her heart after she’d seen him kill that Eversun family. He was a murderer , and what business did he have inside her chest, where her yearning and care resided. She belonged in that same box now.

“Did someone hold you like this when your heart ripped?” she asked.

Her pulse seemed to hang on a cliff, waiting.

“Someone helped, yes.” His voice was far away.

A pang of jealousy flared hot in her. She wished she could have been that person for him.

She shifted, turning in his embrace, and his arms readjusted around her back as her knees tangled with his.