“Your power over emotions, I mean.”

Kiran settles into the cave wall, closing his eyes as he leans against it. “At first, it was because I feared how my father”—he clears his throat on that word for some reason—“might view it. You don’t have to be all that creative to imagine how he might have used it to torture his enemies.”

I shudder, and my mind can’t help but flash to what Kiran’s touch might do to me, if he ever gets his hands on me after I hand Asha over to Az.

My mouth goes dry. “I can imagine.”

“Once my father was gone, I was old enough to recognize that no one would trust someone who could manipulate their emotions. There would be no chance of diplomacy between myself and the other kingdoms.”

I scoff, and his eyes shoot open.

“What?”

“I mean, you didn’t seem to be too concerned with diplomacy when you decreed you’d kill your bride the morning after your wedding.”

Kiran’s molten eyes glaze over, as if he’s far off. “No, I wasn’t concerned with much else other than dousing my pain with anything that could distract me from it. Though it seems the other rulers didn’t care what I did to my human subjects.”

We let that thought settle uncomfortably between us.

“Do you use it often?”

Kiran shakes his head. “Not intentionally. Though I received no instruction in controlling it, so when my emotions are heightened, it seems to seep out of me, as much as I try to contain it.”

Ah, there it is.

If Kiran’s emotions are heightened with love when he’s near Asha, is it possible he leaks his love into her, causing her to believe she loves him back?

I’m not sure that makes Kiran a villain, but it does reinforce Az’s claim that Asha’s feelings can’t be trusted.

“If you’re so bent on keeping your power a secret,” I ask, “then why did you take away my pain that night?”

Kiran stares at me intently and appears to test his words before he speaks them. I’m used to that, having grown up around the fae. I know what it looks like when they’re scanning their words for possible lies.

Finally, he settles on, “It wasn’t difficult to take pity on you, finding you in that state.”

Something about his words makes me feel naked.

Despite that, there’s something he doesn’t say. A truth he’s had to work around.

I don’t press him, but eventually he must decide it’s worth telling me, because he sits up straighter, swallowing before he continues. “When I murdered Fin’s wife, Ophelia, it was in a bout of rage over the fact she’d ruined my relationship with my brother by offering herself to me. The rage consumed me, so much so that when I think back to that moment, to my fire devouring her, I can’t help but feel that it wasn’t me. Even though logically I know it was. Even though I accept responsibility for my actions, for my loss of control. But, Blaise, I know what it is to look at the aftermath of losing control and think, ‘What have I done? That wasn’t me.’ And even then, knowing what that awful stepmother of yours did to you, I still don’t know half of the pain you’ve endured. But I suppose I know a fraction of it, and even that was almost too much for me to bear. At least, not on my own. I just…I suppose I didn’t want you to have to bear it all by yourself, especially if I could hold onto some of it for you. Even for just a moment.”

A lump swells in my throat at the words that go unsaid between us.

Something cracks within me, a sliver in the fortress I’ve built around my heart.

All of a sudden, I’m conflicted. The urge to bare my soul to him, to admit the betrayal simmering in my heart, taps against the fissure.

Would Kiran help me, if he knew? If I admitted the truth of why I need Asha to open the Rip? That it’s the only force powerful enough to separate Farin from Nox’s body, the only way to free the male I love?

The part of me who is dreading going through with this plan, terrified to sacrifice not only my friends but my soul, aches to tell him. Hope, stoked by our freshly kindled friendship, flickers in my chest, whispering in my ear. You can trust him, it says.

But then I recall finding Kiran in the library, poring over grimoires, searching the depths of the literature on dark magic to find a cure for Asha’s mortality.

And I remember that, as kind as Kiran has been to me, he will always put Asha’s safety first. Of course, he will. It’s only right. She’s his wife, and it would be foolish of him to risk harm coming to her for my sake.

Just like it would be foolish of me to let Nox die for Kiran’s sake.

Which is what will happen if Kiran learns what Az and I have planned.

Because at the end of the day, friends don’t come for friends. Not when they have family and lovers who take precedence.

“We should probably be getting some sleep,” Kiran says, snapping me out of my tumultuous thoughts. “Unless there’s anything else you’d like to talk about?”

I blink, then swallow, shaking my head.

Kiran examines me with those molten eyes of his, and for a moment, I worry he sees right through me. But then he tucks his satchel behind his head, propping himself against the cave wall, and closes his eyes.

I can’t help the relief that floods through me when his breathing slows.

I’m aware that it’s a shoddy excuse—claiming I can’t very well tell Kiran now that he’s asleep.

But I nurse the excuse regardless.

Up to this point, I haven’t allowed myself to reconsider the plan.

I need time to think.

Perhaps by morning, I’ll have figured out what to do.

Perhaps the answer will come to me in a dream.

CHAPTER 6

KIRAN

Humans die, rattles a voice, one that wakes me from my deep slumber and lures me to consciousness.

Asha is human, it whispers, its gentle cadence resounding in my skull.

Therefore, Asha…

I snap my eyes open, my breathing ragged as my eyes adjust quickly to the cave. The fire I made to keep us warm through the frigid night still burns, though it waned slightly as I slept.

Humans die, whispers the voice again, and it’s the first time I realize it’s not my own.

Though the voice reverberates in my very bones, it’s as if there’s a source to it, a rope tugging me toward its owner, leading into the gaping maw of the tunnel that stretches behind us and into the depths of the mountain.

Asha is human, it whispers, sounding mournful now, its voice warbling. Therefore, Asha…