I look away from him. The fire snaps and flickers.

“I have made no secret of my desire to return home,” he says. “I will spend my year sworn to you or sworn to her or whatever is required, and not one minute longer.”

“I will never make you do … that.”

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, Your Highness.”

I glare at him again. “I told you to stop it.”

“Return me to the dungeon if my presence troubles you.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is that so tempting?” His eyes narrow slightly. “Truly?”

I grit my teeth and look away again. He is baiting me, and I know it.

“I imagine there must have been an element of relief to be a guardsman,” he says. “To know your actions were directed by another. To have no sense of accountability for what you were ordered to do.”

He says this as if I do not feel the weight of every action I have ever taken. “You do not know anything about my time as a guardsman.”

“I think it is telling that you ran from your birthright and chose an occupation near the lowest rung of Emberfall’s society. Were there no privies to clean?”

“Do you wish to fight, Iisak?”

He uncurls from his position by the wall, looping the chain between his hands, each link click-click-clicking as it passes over his claws. “I believe the better question is, do you wish to fight?”

I do, actually. My heart has been calling for action since I heard Karis Luran give the order to take Parrish’s eye. My muscles are tense with the need to best something.

In our final season together, the enchantress Lilith was secretly torturing Rhen each night. He would wake each morning and call for me to fight him in the arena. It was harder than any training session I ever had with the Royal Guard.

I never fully understood his need until this very moment.

I wish I could stop thinking of Rhen.

I rub at my eyes, but I sense motion in front of me and jerk my hands down. He’s come close enough to touch, each movement slow and calculated. Firelight flickers off the chain, off his wings, off those night-dark eyes.

He swipes his claws at me, almost quicker than breath, but I am ready for it, and I leap back, overturning the chair. My dagger finds my hand, but the sword is out of reach.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say.

“You want to fight with something.”

“What do you want, Iisak? Do you want me to kill you? Do you want to be put out of your misery?”

He laughs. “Do you think you could kill me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he launches himself at me again. His claws dig into my shoulder, but before I can land a hit with the dagger, he’s spun away.

He’s not quick enough to keep the chain out of my grasp, however. It jerks tight as he hits the limit, and I hold fast.

Despite his height, he’s nowhere near as heavy as a human man, and I drag him toward me easily, his feet digging into the stone floor.

As soon as he gets close enough, I swipe with the dagger. He swipes with his claws. We both lose—or maybe we both win. He went for my hand with the chain. I went for his shoulder. We break apart, both bleeding.

He gives me no time to recover. He leaps at me again, swiping for my face, for my neck. I bat his claws away with the dagger, but my forearms take most of the damage. He must sever something vital because the weapon slips from my hand to clatter to the floor. My magic responds almost without thought, healing the damage quickly enough for me to go after him with fists and brute strength. We collide with the other chair, with the chest of drawers, with the pile of logs beside the hearth. A drapery rips down from the wall.

Iisak twists free of my hold and buries those teeth in my forearm. I punch him, and it dislodges him enough that he leaps off me, my blood staining the skin around his mouth.

I roll fast and find the sword under the chair, but Iisak is on top of me before I can draw it. His hands aim for my neck, and I’m ready for him to swipe with his claws, but instead the chain catches me in the throat and presses me down into the stone floor. It’s so tight that I can’t even swallow. He kneels on my sword arm.

I fight his grip with my free hand, but now he’s got leverage.

I glare up at him, sure my eyes are burning with fury. I fight to grit words out. “What do you want, Iisak?”

He leans down, his face an inch from mine. Those fangs are still bared, still tinged with my blood. His breath is like a winter wind. “No. What do you want?”

I try to throw another punch, but he knocks my hand away, then puts his claws against my throat, right over the chain. I grip his wrist, but he tightens his fingers. I feel every single point of his claws against my skin, and I freeze. He doesn’t break the skin, but if I dare to breathe, he might.

What do you want?

Those words seem to drain the fight right out of me. My chest is heaving beneath his weight, and my throat burns with emotion.

There are so many things that I don’t want.

I don’t want Lia Mara to suffer for what I’ve done.

I don’t want the few people who’ve sworn to me to suffer for their allegiance.

I don’t want anyone else to be harmed.

I don’t want my country to fall.

I blink up at Iisak, and my vision blurs. “I don’t want to be at war with Rhen.”

The claws in my neck ease, and the scraver withdraws. I slide the chain away from me, then roll to sitting, rubbing at my neck. The magic in my blood rushes to heal any injury, almost without thought now.

I feel broken inside, and the sparks and flares of power can do nothing to heal that.

Iisak crouches before me, balanced on the balls of his feet. “Your brother is at war with his people. We have seen that in our travels.”

I remember Rhen’s steadfast determination to reclaim Silvermoon Harbor. “I know.”

“Even if you were still his guardsman, the people would be resisting his rule. Have you not considered this?”

“I have.” I think of everything Dustan has been forced to do since I left, and I imagine myself in his place. I don’t want to think that I would have turned my blade on the people of Emberfall, but I consider the oath I once swore, and I know I would have.

I swallow again. “There are no easy choices here, Iisak.”

“Easy,” he growls. “Choices are never easy. There are good and bad options, but the most dangerous is to not make any choice at all.”

I shift to sit against the hearth, seeking the warmth of the stones to combat the chill Iisak adds to the air. A part of me wishes my magic weren’t so efficient. I want to feel sore and broken for a while. I sigh, then look at him. “Thank you.”

He coils the chain in his hands, then nods and sits a short distance away. “I needed a battle as well.”

I glance around the room, at the overturned furniture and torn draperies. “I am surprised we did not draw the guards.”

“No sound escaped this room.”

I blink in surprise, then smile ruefully. “Your magic?”

“It grows stronger every day.” He pauses. “You did not call on yours.”

“I healed myself.”

He says nothing, but I can feel his icy judgment. I could have done more than heal myself.