A joyless smirk touched his lips.

It was gone in an instant, his mouth turning grim as he said softly, “I am not angry with you for that.” He tipped his head further back until it rested on the crystal floor. He said it up to the ceiling, so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “Never angry with you for that.”

Oh.

“Then why are you so mad over there?”

I was being stupid. Pushing too hard, digging for something that didn’t even matter. Who cared why Wylfrael was pissed? That seemed to be a natural state of being for the moody, fox-eared alien.

The tub was filling quickly, water reaching his sculpted, starry chest. Steam billowed from the surface, creating a misting veil. Between the steam and the angle of his tipped-back head, I couldn’t see his face at all as he muttered, “Because you love snow.”

Because I love snow?

Jesus, he was going even crazier than I was. At least my thoughts mostly made sense and I wasn’t getting mad at people for an innocuous affection for a goddamn weather phenomenon.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I said, pressing my fingertips to my eye sockets. I was so, so tired. I’d been exhausted and ready for bed hours ago, and a lot had happened since then.

That’s putting it mildly.

I opened my eyes. Wylfrael didn’t seem like he was moving from the bath anytime soon. He remained in his languorous position, arms stretched out, head tipped back, a glowing silhouette in the steam. Even now, even bone-tired and needing distance from Wylfrael, I couldn’t ignore a nearly magnetic pull towards him. I wanted to slide out of the bed, pad over to the water, and slip into it. I wanted to find him in the steam, touch him again. I wanted to understand him, understand myself, and why this had even happened.

I wanted to pretend it had never happened at all.

I refused the pull towards him, hunkering down in the bed, yanking fur blankets over myself like armour. I expected the bed to smell like Wylfrael – like frost and leather – but it didn’t, and once again, disappointment outweighed the relief.

I tried to stay awake.

But, the same way I tried not to think about Wylfrael, I failed.

WHEN I WOKE UP TO BRIGHT light filtering in through silver crystal walls, the first thing I saw was Wylfrael in profile, seated in a crystal chair. He was fully dressed in his usual all-leather ensemble, his hair freshly combed and tied back by a scrap of blue silk. He looked clean and cold and fucking perfect, no trace of last night left on him.

I couldn’t say the same for myself. As I sat up groggily, lingering dampness between my legs reminded me all too well of what had happened. I hastily finger-combed my hair, feeling knots, and vividly remembered throwing my head back in pleasure, my hair tangling against the pillows as I came on Wylfrael’s hand.

The memory was so fresh that I stifled a hot gasp. Wylfrael rose instantly from where he’d been sitting, stalking towards me and stopping at the side of the bed. I resisted the urge to scramble backward and away from him just as I resisted the urge to get nearer to him.

He is like a black fucking hole. If I get too close, I’ll disappear.

“You’re awake. Good.”

“Good morning to you too,” I said, voice croaky.

He ignored my greeting.

“I have business to attend to in the nearest villages. I must reacquaint myself with the Sionnachans.”

“Reacquaint yourself?” It was too early for this. Even though, judging by the strength of the light coming in here, it probably wasn’t early at all.

“Yes,” Wylfrael said. “Every Sionnachan I knew before is dead. I must meet their descendants. Reestablish relations.”

I felt my brow furrow as I took this in. Why had I not realized that before? Wylfrael had been gone for generations, recovering from some battle. He’d only just returned...

And everyone he’d known in this entire world was gone.

God, I knew all too well what that was like.

“I’m sorry.”

Wylfrael inhaled sharply, looking taken aback by my words. He shut down the expression quickly, settling his features into an appearance of cool neutrality.

“What for?”

He genuinely seemed not to know. I wondered if he thought I was trying to apologize for something else, for something I’d done.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

Loss. It made me think of the conversation we’d had after Maerwynne had left. When Wylfrael had looked agonized and told me that what he’d lost was worth more than any world. I’d wanted to say sorry then, too. Instead, I’d just told him that maybe he’d deserved it.

This must have been what he was talking about. He hadn’t lost wealth or status or power, but people. Though he was controlled now, I remembered the look of deep pain on his face that day. He cares about the Sionnachans. Deeply.

And in this moment, I cared about him. Enough to feel sad for his loss, anyway. I’d already decided, holding the knife in Wylfrael’s kitchen, that I wouldn’t let him strip my humanity away. And in that humanity, compassion for him grew. It didn’t take away my anger or confusion, but it was there all the same.

“It does not make sense to apologize for a death you did not cause,” Wylfrael said.

“It’s what we say where I’m from,” I said, shrugging. “What do stone sky gods say when someone dies?”

“Nothing, usually.”

“OK then... What about the Sionnachans?”

Wylfrael’s mouth twisted, and I thought he wouldn’t answer, but he did.

“‘They rest with Nacha now. And I will help you rest until you meet them.’”

“Then, I’m sorry for your loss. But they rest with Nacha now. And I will help you rest until you meet them.”

“You should not make promises you don’t intend to keep,” he admonished, deadly quiet. “That saying means that you will take care of the other person in their grief. That you’ll take on their burdens as your own.”

I shrugged again, not willing to confirm the sentiment of the expression but not exactly taking it back, either.

“I mean, I am supposed to be your bride, aren’t I?” I asked. “Anyway, I’m just saying that I know what it’s like to lose everyone you’ve ever loved.”

His gaze searched my face. His elbow flexed, his hand twitching forward, as if to touch me.

But he didn’t.

He closed himself off with a nonchalant flick of his wings.

“Well, I do not need any rest. And I do not plan on meeting Nacha or anyone else anytime soon.”

That was an understatement, considering that he was immortal.

Well, lucky you, then. You’ll never die like the rest of us.

But there was no real ire in the thought. In fact, I thought that being alive forever was even worse than dying. Endlessly living while those you cared about disappeared around you. Collecting the deaths of the ones you loved like stitches on a cloak, each one adding just a little more weight to your steps, your shoulders, your heart.

It probably made me a fool, and maybe he didn’t deserve it, but now I felt even sorrier for him.

“What will you do when I die?”

My question cracked his illusion of control. Astonishment wracked his features, and his wings snapped wildly, sending a cracking boom, like thunder, through the air.

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood my question.

I stared at him steadily and repeated the question slowly, calmly.

“What will you do when I die?”

His brows crashed downward in confused consternation, as if I’d brought up some bizarre scenario that made no sense.

“I’m mortal,” I reminded him. “I’ll die eventually.”

“How long does your kind live?” The question made the same sound his wings had a moment ago – a vicious snap.

“Barring any illnesses or accidents, I probably have another fifty or sixty years. Maybe seventy, but that’s pushing it. Oh, and a year is three hundred sixty-five days.”