He’s my only peace. I just wish I would have been strong enough to reach for him long before this fucking war started.

All that time wasted...

“Damrion,” he groans, writhing against me as I wrap my hand around his erection. “Fuck.”

A powerful knock on the door shatters the moment like glass hitting stone.

I wrench myself from his arms, my heart hammering against my ribcage. In two steps, I’m on the opposite side of the chamber, my back to him.

“Enter!” I shout.

Burion hurries into the room, rivulets of blood running down his face. They stain his hands. His eyes are wild as they meet mine.

"The Eastern Regiment..." he gasps, panting as if he ran the entire way here. "Under attack. Outnumbered by thousands."

Faen.

If the Eastern Regiment falls, Álfheimr falls. They’re our last line of defense.

“Thank you. Get yourself to the Valkyrie and rest. I’ll send word to the generals.”

How many of our generals even still live?

Burion nods and stumbles out, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

I turn back to Adriel, a weight on my heart. It only grows when I see his face. The fire in his eyes has winked out, replaced by a chilling emptiness. And I know it has nothing to do with the news Burion brought.

This is my doing.

“Adriel, I—”

"I'm going," he says suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion.

My heart clenches.

"Adriel, wait." I reach for him but he steps back, his face set in an icy glare. “You don't owe us anything else. You’ve done enough."

He’s been unstoppable since the war began, one of our most deadly warriors. If history remembers us at all, it’ll be this Fae and his Light they immortalize.

"This isn't about owing, Damrion." A bitter smile twists his lips as he shakes his head at me. "It's about fighting for our world. For our people. So long as there’s a need, I’ll fight.” Disappointment flows through his black eyes before his expression goes blank. “Until just now, I thought perhaps I was fighting for us, too.”

“Adriel.”

He strides toward the door, not looking at me.

Faen.

“Adriel, please. Let’s talk about this.”

"Nei, Damrion. I won’t be your hidden shame or your dirty fucking secret. If that’s all you want from me, there’s nothing to talk about.”

The door slams shut behind him, leaving me to grapple with his words in the deafening silence. Is that what he thinks he is to me?

I collapse onto a nearby chair, a wave of guilt washing over me. He’s right. I have treated him like a dirty secret. Since he kissed me for the first time after Ljósál fell a fortnight ago, we’ve met only in secret. I hold him, touch him, kiss him, only when we’re alone.

Shame bubbles up inside me, not for how I feel about him—Gods no, never. But I’m deeply ashamed of myself and my choices.

Our moments together are stolen from beneath the blade of a sword and the threat of looming destruction. He’s the Light in this Gods-forsaken war.

And I don't know how to save us.

Our argument still echoes in my mind, tormenting me. It’s a chasm between us, one we can’t even bridge because he hasn’t returned. He's out there now, battling the surging tide of Jötunn threatening to engulf us all.

He thinks I’m ashamed of the way I feel about him.

Gods. How could I have let it come to that?

There hasn’t been a single moment since this Gods-forsaken war when having him in my arms has shamed me. If I fall with Álfheimr, I’ll fall with him in my heart.

Footsteps sound behind me.

I whirl around to find Dax standing before me, weary and covered in blood. His grim expression is a hot blade right into my stomach.

"Tell me," I demand, my voice strained.

He hesitates for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. His silence only fuels the panic beating at me.

"Speak, damn you!" I growl.

"The Eastern Regiment is gone, Damrion," he finally says, his voice a painful rasp. "By the time Malachi and I arrived, everyone was dead or captured."

Nei. If we've lost the Eastern Regiment, our chances of survival are all but gone. Álfheimr is going to fall, and the Fae will fall with it.

"Adriel," I whisper, his name a plea on my lips. Fear claws at my insides, threatening to tear me apart. "He was with the Eastern Regiment, Dax. He left two days ago. Tell me he got out. Tell me he's alive, damn you."

Dax meets my gaze, but the sorrow in his eyes offers no comfort. “We searched, Damrion,” he says quietly. “There were no survivors.”

Gods. He’s gone.

Adriel is gone.

My world shatters in an instant, fragments of hope falling into darkness.

Grief and pain crash over me in tidal waves of agony. My legs wobble beneath me, threatening to give way. I grasp at the wall behind me, trying to keep myself upright.

"We have to go. I have to go," I mutter, though even I hear the painful desperation in my voice.

"Damrion." Dax reaches out, gripping my arm tightly. His touch is both grounding and suffocating.