“This is how it has always been done,” Maazin said, his voice low. “To House Kaalium, tradition is important.”

“So is progress,” I argued, though it was under my breath and my tone was a little distracted as my eyes caught on a string of numbers. “How long have you worked for the family?”

“A few years now,” he said.

“Did you grow up in Laras?” I asked. “In the villages below the keep?”

“No,” he said, frowning, a harsh tone in his voice making my gaze jump to him. When he saw me watching, his lips quirked up, and he ran a hand over his ivory horn. I hadn’t seen another Kylorr—at least within the keep—with light-colored horns. Whatever I’d heard in his voice smoothed away, his pleasant tone returning to fill in the silence, “But I would’ve liked to. The harvest season is especially exciting. Kylorr come from all corners of the Kaalium to celebrate it. Just last year, I met a female from a northern village outside of Laras. She made me try her family’s brew, a recipe passed down for generations, and promised me a kiss for every sip I took without retching.”

“And how many did you manage?” I asked, biting back a grin. “Kisses, I mean.”

Maazin chuckled, his expression becoming sheepish yet conspiratorial. “I couldn’t tell you. Whatever was in that brew made me forget the whole festival entirely. She’s just a shadow in my memory now.”

My laugh rang through the library.

The day flew by quickly. I hardly even noticed, too consumed in tracing the path of the unexpected history of lore and all its exports from the Kaalium.

“The bulk of the harvest isn’t complete yet,” Maazin warned me, standing from his chair to touch a light orb. It illuminated the darkened room almost immediately, and for a moment, I was confused. Was it night already? “Laras’s harvest hasn’t even begun. These reports are from the other territories.”

“The other territories?” I asked, my eyes going a little bleary. I’d been staring at parchment all day, kneeling on the ground in my dress since I’d made multiple stacks of records around me, sorted by year. “Of the Kaalium?” I questioned.

I was starving, I realized. My stomach was growling, though a tray of food had been brought in for us sometime in the afternoon. Ludayn. Ludayn had brought it in for us, though she’d been frowning at my position on the floor. Maazin and I had devoured it, chatting about the village as we’d munched on fruit and dried meats. He’d listed off his favorite food stalls, which I’d made a mental note to track down. Maybe Ludayn could come with me.

Stretching, hearing my back pop, I listened as Maazin said, “Yes. Erzos. Kyne. Vyaan. And Salaire.”

So that was what those names were. I’d come across them in the records.

“And Laras is the capital,” I said quietly, filing those names away, itching to find a map of the Kaalium in the library if I could. “Who runs those territories if Azur is here in Laras?”

“My brothers,” came the dark, familiar voice. I jumped, swinging around to face the door.

Just like that, all the ease left me, replaced by a sensation of tight and heightened awareness. My heart started pumping. I wondered if my husband could hear the sudden rush of my blood as he silently stepped into the room.

“Kyzaire,” Maazin said quietly, scrambling to stand, inclining his head. “I hope my report was to your satisfaction.”

“It was,” Azur said coolly, “though it was late.”

I pressed my lips together as Azur’s gaze landed on me.

His brothers? I wondered.

There were more highly arrogant Kylorr males ruling the Kaalium, who looked like him, all dark and brooding and frightening?

“What are you doing here?” he asked me, the question pointed and low.

I couldn’t get a read on him. I couldn’t tell if he was upset, angry, bewildered, or indifferent. Or maybe he was just hungry.

My cheeks flushed, remembering our agreement.

“I’m organizing these records with Maazin,” I told him, craning my neck back to meet his eyes. My legs were asleep beneath me, so even if I stood now, I’d look like a wobbling fool.

Azur slid an assessing gaze around the room, noting the stacks of parchment, some clearly older than others judging by the yellowing of the pages and the dusty, torn edges. I was working on the oldest stacks—labelled dates going back nearly a hundred years, written out in faded blue ink—and Maazin said he would handle more recent years. We would meet somewhere in the middle.

Azur’s jaw hardened.

“You’re not allowed in here, Gemma,” he finally said, his tone unmistakably sharp and clipped. “Come. Now.”

Tension sank into the room.

When I didn’t move, Azur stepped farther inside, his movements quick. His eyes cut to the high neck of my dress, and I watched as his fangs elongated. Maazin stepped forward, but Azur didn’t even look at him as he ordered, “Leave us.”

Maazin was skirting around the desk before I could even think to be frightened. He met my eyes as he passed. I saw him hesitate, briefly, before Azur growled out, “Maazin.”

The ivory-horned male passed Azur, inclining his head, before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him.

Leaving me alone with Azur, who looked like he was in a foul mood tonight.

“Is this your idea of submission, wife?” he asked, stepping closer, weaving effortlessly around large stacks of parchment like they were ancient columns. His tone was deceitfully gentle, and it sent alarm bells ringing in my mind. “Disobeying me?”

“I’m just trying to be useful,” I told him, steeling my spine despite my kneeling position on the floor. “I’m out of your way, aren’t I? And this room is a mess. There’s no order or—”

“If I wanted you to work, then I would put you to work,” he growled. “These records are off limits to you. Or do you not see the irony in letting you handle our record keeping for the Kaalium’s most profitable export?”

I nearly flinched at his unspoken barb.

“The debts were my father’s,” I said, narrowing my eyes. I had the sudden fear that he really would forbid me from this place, when this had made my day feel full and satisfying. I enjoyed being in here with Maazin. Enjoyed the idle chatter in between bouts of concentration. “I did what I could to keep us safe, and I succeeded. Don’t doubt my abilities, Azur. I know numbers. I know they don’t lie.”

“You succeeded?” he repeated softly, crouching in front of me so that we were eye level. “Is that why I had to pay off two hundred fifty vron worth of debts to numerous collectors who were salivating at the thought of you defaulting? Is that what you call succeeding?”

Every conversation we ever had always made me feel a little lower than I had before. But I was determined not to let him.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

The soft question was out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

I had my suspicions about why I was here. Truthfully, I didn’t think it had anything to do with me specifically.

Azur stilled.

“Have I done something to you? To hurt you?” I wondered. “To make you want to hurt me like this?”

We stared at one another. His brows pulled down. His scowl was menacing.

“Tell me,” I pleaded softly. “Tell me what it is. Because the marriage contract I signed in blood was for life. There is no escaping this, and so I’m trying, Azur. I’m trying to make this life meaningful so that it doesn’t hurt every day. What would you have me do? Do you want me to wander these halls and do nothing at all? Only await whenever you wish to feed from me next? What about all the other moments in between? Because there are so many, and they would feel endless without a purpose.”

Azur’s gaze flickered.

For a moment—a moment that nearly made the air rush from my lungs—I thought he looked discomfited. A brief flash of remorse, of guilt, before it was gone.