I purse my lips. How easily Killian speaks of a relationship’s death.

    Forget Javier. For the moment, anyway. I made a promise to Kayla. “Do you know where Victor Prince is being kept?”

    Killian smiles a cold smile. “Yes...because I abducted him.”

    What? “Is he alive?” My grip tightens on the swords.

    “Yes.” A single nod of his head. “For now.”

    There aren’t many reasons Killian would have kept a Troikan Messenger alive. In fact, there’s only one. His weakness—for me. “You think you’re helping me.” What I don’t understand is how Victor’s imprisonment helps me. “I’d rather you stay safe and Victor goes home.”

    Now he gives a clipped headshake. “You don’t get a say in this.”

    I try a different route. “His friends miss him. I miss him.”

    Mistake! He tenses. “You gonna stop loving me if I keep him?”

    “No,” I say, but he’s far from pacified.

    A muscle jumps beneath his eye. “Maybe there’s something about him I don’t like. Something I’ve never liked, even when he lived in Myriad.”

    “Maybe he doesn’t like the fact that Victor can touch you and he can’t,” Sloan calls.

    “Shut up, inferior,” he grates.

    “Killian—” I begin.

    “No.” Rage vibrates from him. “We’re on opposite sides of a war, lass. A choice you made. Do you expect me to lay down my weapons and accept defeat?”

    “No, I—”

    “Good. Because I haven’t. I won’t. I’m too busy fighting for ye.” His accent thickens. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to give ye a better eternity, not just a better present. I’m protecting ye the only way I can. And I’m doing it without lying. Do know how difficult that is? But I do it because I know ye despise liars. Because I want to be a man worthy of ye, even if I can’t have ye.”

    “I’m nothing special. I’m not yet worthy of you. But I’m here. I’m yours.”

    Abject longing stares at me through those blue-gold eyes...until his expression hardens. “I’m not going to get out of this alive, lass, and I know it.”

    “You’re not going to die.” Panic grabs me by the neck and squeezes. “Do you understand?”

    He offers me a small, sad smile. “I’m living on borrowed time. When this is over, my crimes will be exposed and punishment will come. I’ll be kept alive only as an insurance policy against you, my life used to control yours—to stop you from leading your armies into battle.”

    “I don’t have armies!”

    He plows on. “Do you really think I’ll let that happen? No, lass. No. I’d rather die than hurt you, and I will. I’ll make sure I go out in a blaze of glory.” He laughs now, but the sound lacks any hint of amusement. “What I did to Dior is being done to me, only a hundredfold worse. Your realm says we reap what we sow. Karma. Justice has come for her due, wouldn’t you say?”

    “Killian.” I take a step toward him.

    He jumps back, avoiding contact. “I have always believed what’s meant to be will be, and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to work out. This,” he says, spreading his arms, “is my fate.”

    “No.” I stomp my foot. “Everything works out when we fight for what’s right. Choice matters. You say you don’t want to lay down your weapons and accept defeat, but that’s what you’re doing. What you’re choosing to do. You have options. You can defect to Troika.”

    “Impossible. Your realm would never accept me.”

    “Maybe not at first. But fight with them instead of against them, and they’ll grow to love you.”

    “To fight with them, I’d have to go to court. Who would be my Barrister, lass?” Another bitter laugh. “You?”

    “Yes!” I shout. “Yes! It would be my honor and privilege. I love you.”

    “No. I would never allow you to—”

    The entire building shakes, the foundation rattling at our feet. Dust plumes the air as I stagger backward, actually falling out of my Shell. Killian races over, abandoning his Shell to catch me before I hit the ground. The shaking continues, and we both fall. I release the swords and cling to him.

    He twists in midair, absorbing the impact. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters when he catches his breath, and I’m not sure why he’s apologizing.

    “No, I’m sorry.” The Buckler has been disabled, and it’s time for us to part. I’m not ready. I’m not even close to ready. I don’t want to leave him like this. And zero! I haven’t spoken to Javier. I can’t leave without completing my mission.

    Killian must not want to part with me, either. He rolls me over, pinning me in place. Where we touch, I grow chilled. He hisses, and I know he’s being burned. Even still, awareness sizzles inside me. He’s so beautiful. I ghost my fingers over his cheekbone. I love the line of his jaw, adore the sweep of his brows, marvel at the long length of his lashes, and take comfort in the stubborn jut of his chin.

    “Everything I do, I do for ye,” he repeats, his accent back. It returns every time his emotions overtake him. “I would do anything—except put ye in danger.”

    My chest aches. My brands tingle. Every step toward a dream is a step away from a regret. “Do you want out of Myriad?” Let me rephrase. “Do you want to join me in Troika?”

    “Ye would be—”