We are taken to an apartment with double rooms. Like the palace, the walls that appear to be made of ice are actually moonstone, and radiate a soft, bluish light. A maid sparks a flame at the fireplace, though it does nothing to warm her features or regard toward us. Despite my previous anger, I'm glad Roane is close by. The past days have taxed on my trust of everyone, but it's not me I fear for. On our way to the room, servants and guards alike watched Roane, their pale faces hardened and their eyes steeled at the sight of him.  If they could've frozen him and shattered him to pieces, I know they would have. And without his weapons, I fear they could.

Roane stands by the wall, tense, and I know he feels the same.

The guard that led us into the room clears his throat and the servants preparing the room rush out behind him. He turns to Roane. "Two guards are stationed outside," he says, mildly, but the true meaning of his words echoes between us: don't you dare try to escape. The guard spins on his heels and walks out, and never once looks at me.

The door closes with a click, and save for the flicker of the flames and my slow exhale, nothing else is heard. Still, it's a deafening silence and the hurt I felt before returns with a vengeance. We have bigger things to worry about, but in this foreign land ruled by a king who would have us killed with the snap of a finger, I'm supposed to trust Roane fully. And yet, he'd kept one of the biggest truths from me. I don't know how to navigate my feelings at the moment and so I don't.

I walk into my bathroom instead. Curls of smoke twine from the surface of the water in the brass tub, and my joints grow watery. I can already feel the warm water soothing every ache and pain inflicted on me by the Shadowmen and the trolls, from leaving Caleb to Roane's secrets...

"I'm taking a bath," I say and start to close the door.

Roane presses a hand against it and keeps the door open. "Wait."

I sigh and pause at the threshold, not ready to talk about this—about us yet. Before I say anything, Roane walks into the washroom and dips a finger into the water. He stays still for a minute then backs away.

"I thought maybe they... whatever, it's safe." He rakes a hand through his hair and leaves me alone to the bath and fog. His worry for me is endearing, and I don't want to be this angry at him, but sadly there are some things you can't just wash away.

Roane is by the window when I come out, once again feeling human. A tunic and skirt had been left for me, and though they're a bit large, I was able to roll it at the waist to make it fit. No need to look the gift horse in the mouth when the alternative was muddy and blood-stained clothing smelling of things no one should reek of.

I pause by the table, my eyes fixed on a plate of barely-eaten fruits and meat.  My heart tightens. Like the way he'd tested the bath, Roane has tasted each one of the foods we'd been given, ready to take on danger for me. I sit in silence and indulge in some food, though I'm not hungry anymore. How can I be when I've had my fill of confusion and bitter regret? 

When I'm done eating, I walk to the sitting area before the large, arched windows. Blankets of snow cover the surrounding lands, more snow falling by the second. Roane is sitting on the sofa, and for a while, neither of us says anything. I want to talk things over and yet, I can't find any words. 

In the reflection of the glass, I watch him stand up. He peels off his shirt and tosses it beside him. Only the outlines of the weapons remain as he was forced to give them up downstairs. He extends an arm and points to the outline of a knife.

"This was my first tattoo. I got it after I killed an opponent, a kid too frail to defend himself. I was ordered to either toughen him up or kill him. He refused to fight and so... I killed him."

My heart churns and I turn as he trails his hand to a long, narrow blade just beside it. "My first assassination. It was a temple leader who wanted to bring literature of the old world to the children, just to give them a bit of hope."

He points to the outline of throwing stars on each knuckle. "Five brothers who did nothing but try to protect their mother..." He touches the dagger on his other forearm. "Their mother."

His tales of terror continue with each tattoo, rites of passage that marked his body with weapons and stained his hands in blood. Rapt by his tale, I sit at the coffee table before him and listen.

Roane cradles the spiked ball at his shoulder. He swallows. "My final test—my older brother, Cassias. He was ordered to kill me, to prove he was ready to do anything for the crown. In reality, we were both being tested. If he lost, I was next in line to inherit. And by killing him, I would have proven to our father that I was ready for the crown. But I never wanted it. I'd rather die before taking it on. So, I evaded him, but a part of me thinks he didn't want the crown either. He wanted me to kill him. It was his only way out."

He sits forward, fingers laced between his knees. "When he finally knew I wasn't going to kill him, he turned an arrow to Thyre. Thyre was just a child at the time and nothing like what he is now. He was innocent and I couldn't stand by and watch him die."

Exhaling, he shakes his head. "To save a brother, I killed a brother and inherited a curse."

He lifts his gaze and trails it along my face as if looking for signs of horror or disgust. Numb, I can only stare back.

"I should have told you who I was," he says quietly, "but I didn't want to be that person anymore. I've done unforgivable things, and if just for the time I was with you, I wanted to be someone else..." His voice breaks. So does my heart. "It's never been that I don't trust you, Aramina. I'm just no good, especially for you. I knew it the moment I met you. After you left me in the woods, I must have walked away a million times only to turn back around, debating whether to seek out more of this world...to seek out more of you."

I slide forward to the edge of the table, closer to him. Weaving my fingers into his, I give them a gentle squeeze. If I can't soothe his pain, I'll hold him as he suffers through it.

"I went to the shop that night because I wanted to talk to you, for you to tell me about your world and about you and why you were so sad. That's when I saw Lachlan and Perry slip into the store." He shakes his head, his voice tight. 

Brushing a finger across my cheek, he lifts brown eyes to mine. "I'm a monster. I should've walked away, but I couldn't."

Part of me mourns the feel of him, the same gentleness I once shared with Caleb before we'd fallen apart. The other half of me leans into his touch, relishing the feel his callused hands that whisper along my skin. "And I won't walk away from you."

He closes his eyes as if my words hurt his soul. "You should walk away. The things I've done are..."

"The things you've done are in the past and they don't change how I feel."

His bores his eyes into mine. "How do you feel?" he murmurs, his breath skimming my lips.

Whether it's lust or love, lunacy or my heartbreak over Caleb, I meet his lips and show him. 

Our kiss is gentle, but then weeks of confusion brim and we give in. He grips my hips and in one lithe move, lifts me onto him, deepening our kiss. I fist his hair, needing more of him. I don't want to come up for air. I don't want to catch my breath. I want his to fill me. And I seek it out, needing it to live. We become different beings, empty vessels needing to be filled with the other. Manic. Addicted. Nothing else will do. We found one another in little light, with little hope, but two halves now feel to make a whole, and I don't want to let go.

My head spins at this surge of magic, at my heart thrumming in my ears. Each beat hammers his question into my head: How do you feel? How do you feel?

How do I feel?

With each beat, I float in Roane's affections, yet drown in my own confusion. I have no answer. I don't know how I feel. I lost Caleb. I ruined us until we were irreparable. But a groan rumbles in Roane's chest, reverberating into mine, and I'm lost in it, lost in him, lost in wondering that perhaps this is my second chance. That perhaps a new light had to shine brighter to show me that things weren't how I thought them. That maybe with Caleb, I clung to a fire that had long extinguished, that I had long doused.

Confusion flushes ice through my veins. Roane breaks away, his face hovering just before mine. Our eyes meet, and as slow awareness dawns in his eyes, the image of him speckles behind the tears that fill my eyes.

"We can't do this," I breathe, panting for a breath between a sob I cage in my chest. "I'm not ready to do this."

His frame heaves with the same breathlessness and passion as mine, but where I know my eyes show remorse and guilt, his flash over with quiet pain and disappointment and I know he's thinking the same thing too, of everything that could be if we toss caution to the wind for just a few minutes; if we chase addiction to the ends of pleasure without a thought of consequence.

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"You still love Caleb," he says. It's not a question.

Hearing Caleb's name sobers me and twines about my heart to stop its racing. "I think so. I don't know."

After a long silence, he brings me into his arms like we've done since we started sharing, though I don't think he holds me so his magic will be appeased, but rather his heart. I let him, curling into his side, needing the same. Burying his nose in my hair, he inhales and then blows out a breath as though releasing steam. I do the same, understand him completely.

"It's okay not to know," he says, kissing my hair lightly. "But when you do, can you please tell me?"

I nod and close my eyes against him. "I will," I say, knowing that whatever I decide will leave me brokenhearted. 

We stay like this for some time. I watch our twined hands rest over his chest, gliding with the gentle rhythm of his breath. He places sleepy kisses on the top of my head while his other hand follows the path of my spine. I turn my face up to look at him. His eyes are closed, and for once, he looks relaxed... peaceful.

Tightness gathers in my chest and I turn my head down.

His journey along my spine stops. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice a rumble in his chest.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

"Sharing creates bonds, Aramina. I feel you. What's wrong?"

Looking into his eyes, I swallow the words on the verge of being said. Saying them means this—being in Forever with him isn't a dream. There are enemies and darkness, and they are real. I'm not ready for it, for them. Whether the effects of Sharing or us simply having created a bond through our time together—above all of the confusion, he is a friend and I can't let him go.

Tears brim in my eyes. "Morning is coming, and you're taking on the darkness and there's no way around it." I sit up, disgusted in myself. "It's no wonder magic doesn't want me. It gives me one vision, one charge, and I manage to screw it up."

"What vision?"

"When we first met and you shook my hand, I had a vision. Since my Crossing, I hadn't had one, but I did with you. At first I saw the Great Mistress going into a cave, and darkness was pooling from inside. Then something shifted, and it was you walking into the darkness." Memory of it squeezes my stomach. "The vision was a warning that I'm supposed to keep you from going in, from walking in there. Now I can't. You're going back into the Nether seems like our only way of survival."

He's quiet for a moment, but then he smooths a hand down my back, easing me down next to him. He holds me for long moments after, smoothing his thumb along mine.

"Maybe you didn't keep me from going back to the Nether, but you kept me from another darkness." Bringing my hand to his chest, he clasps it tightly. "I didn't know this. All I knew was death and blood. Now I have memories... good memories, and darkness can't ever take that away unless I let it."

"Don't let it," I whisper into his side, wishing it also didn't take him away from me.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. *sigh* I'm crushing on Roane. There, I said it lol