Rune shifted on his feet, glancing at the door nervously. I smiled, ashamed that I was a little envious that he could converse with the one he loved. Foolish to be envious of such a thing. Rune’s situation was not much better than mine. Bo was corrupted by a dark hatred and would sooner kill Rune than kiss him.

“Go,” I told him. “You don’t need my permission.”

Rune’s breath quivered when he released it. “Thank you.”

Once the door clicked shut, my eyes blinked to the bed. A sob choked in the back of my throat. I pressed a hand to my chest as though it might dull the agony in my heart. Ari was on his back, his head tilted to one side as though he might wake at any moment.

My fingertips ran over the fur coverlets and duvets over his strong body. Someone had removed his shirt, likely to give his skin air. His hair was damp along with his face and smelled of fresh sage soap.

The healers cared for him well.

With the way his head was tilted, the side of his neck with the mark of the fine line raven tattoo was visible. Against the sun-kissed shade of his skin, the raven was majestic. It looked as though it had always belonged.

Tears blurred his beautiful face as I reached a trembling hand for the few locks of hair that had fallen over his brow. I brushed them out of his eyes, then broke.

A well of emotion spilled from the center of my chest, over my tongue, until it shook me too fiercely to remain standing. I kneeled over the bed and wrapped my arms around Ari’s waist. My cheek pressed against the long, jagged scar over his heart. By the gods, his skin was so warm, so alive. The dull, slow cadence of his heart was there, lulling me into a trance.Even the gentle rise and fall of his chest wrapped around me like a shield against the truth.

He was sleeping. Nothing more. I could almost pretend if I shook him hard enough, he’d rise and poke my ribs until I was laughing.

Great heaves of tears drenched his skin. I ran my palms across his chest, his arms, taking him in, desperate to keep him close. In a few moves, I leveraged my body against his side, took one of his arms, and drapedit over my waist.

I cried until my throat ached and my lashes were heavy with salty clumps.

“Ari,” I said, voice rough. “Can you feel me?”

Silence beside Ari Sekundär was the worst kind of torture. I did not know if he could hear me or even sense my hands on his skin, but I craved a touch of normalcy, of levity that followed the man even in the dreariest of circumstances.

We shifted into new roles. Ari became me, silent and stoic. I was him, allowing words to spill over my tongue like a sieve.

“I don’t know if you can or not, but I’m here,” I said. My fingertips stroked the side of his stubbled face. “You are still one of the most beautiful bastards I’ve ever seen.”

I gave him a wet chuckle. “If anything were to wake you, I thought it might be that. You ought to wake and correct me by letting me know youare themost beautiful of bastards.”

My chin trembled when his face was unmoving. I arched my head and pressed a kiss to his lips. Still warm, a little dry, but they were mine. They were home.

“But I suppose you can’t wake yet, can you?” I said. The hard truth was, no matter how desperate I was to hear his voice in these rooms, I could not keep him if Niklas’s elixirs failed us.

“I don’t know if Calista’s dream tales are real, so I don’t know what you’ve seen of me, or what you know from my side.” Tears dripped off my lashes onto his cheek when I pulled away. “Besides, the last time you walked in my dream we were . . . occupied in other things.”

I laughed softly, aching to see a smirk, or hear some jest about his prowess with claiming me the way he had in the meadow.

Silence.

The smile faded from my lips like a shadow of night chasing away the sun. “We, um, we brought Niklas Tjuv to you. I’m hopeful he’ll have an elixir to help heal the poison from your blood.”

I glanced down at the pulpy stain near his ribs. Davorin’s corruption had halted as the healers promised, but how swiftly would it spread should he wake and we still had no cure?

“I’m hopeful about a lot of things, Ari,” I whispered, “but gods, I wish you were here with me. There are times the only thing that keeps me moving forward is the thought of you. Even memories. In the waking hours, I’ve been thinking a great deal of all our interactions these last few turns. The good and bad.”

I traced the lines of the raven on his skin.

“With all the extra thoughts and reminiscing, I think I’ve found out a secret you’ve kept for some time now, Ambassador.” I pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. “Tell me if I am right. A rule for new recruits in the Borough guard is the requirement to state our age and the day of our birth. Of course, I didn’t let on that my birth turn was quite a long time ago.

“For turns, the Borough guards, Sofia, the king, they all knew when my birth was, yet I never received a thing. With a cold heart, I hardly cared, until I met you. Then, I’ll admit, there were times I missed the way my brother and daj would celebrate. I missed being remembered, I suppose.

“Funny how the instant I was bound to your household, I woke thinking it would be another turn of aging and no second thought from anyone. But . . . outside my door was a blackberry honey cake, wrapped with my name on the package. From Dunker, of course.”

I propped onto my elbow, smiling down at his gentle features. With my first finger, I traced his jawline, his cheek, the ridge of his nose. I leaned closer to whisper against his ear, “But we both know Dunker couldn’t stand me. But you, Ambassador, made certain to acknowledgeeveryonein your household on the day of their birth.” I kissed his cheek, then pressed my brow to his. “I’m onto you, Ari.”