“I can’t let you do that,” I whisper, turning in to him.

“Yes, you can.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because we love each other,” he murmurs. “And we always knew this day would come.”

My lips close over his, sealing the truth of his statement. I linger in the kiss, knowing what I have to do and dreading it. His lips stay firm against mine and his hand stays clasped tight in mine. Our bodies aren’t fighting to press closer together. This kiss is gentle and full of promises that can never be fulfilled, and it leaves an ache consuming me. It’s the kiss we should have shared long ago but never made the time for, and now it’s too late. It’s more than goodbye—it’s regret.

Now. Only now, a tiny voice urges me.

So I kiss Erik. I kiss him goodbye. I kiss him for all the moments we will never have, and because I know I love him.

Because I know I’m leaving him.

FORTY-ONE

THE BREEZE OFF THE OCEAN GHOSTS THROUGH us. Its chill makes me shiver and Erik pulls away, rubbing my shoulders to warm me, both of us dazed enough to forget where we are for a moment.

Unfortunately, a moment is too long to waste.

“Ahh, young love,” purrs a voice. “Isn’t that sweet?”

We whirl toward the voice. Ahead of us, the others are frozen to the spot. No one tries to run. We’re all trying to figure out what the next move is.

“Not expecting us?” Kincaid asks. “We RSVP’d.”

“This is so embarrassing,” I say, twisting from Erik’s arms. “But we have a previous engagement.”

“Yes? That is a pity,” Kincaid says, snapping the fingers of his gloves and removing each in delicate order.

Approaching footsteps—many, many footsteps—draw my attention away. Even Kincaid turns, but his face doesn’t fall when he sees Cormac Patton approaching. My own sags in frustration. We’re seriously outnumbered.

“I’ve tried to help her with her manners,” Cormac’s voice calls above the wind. He crunches across the pavement, a small army in tow. “But she’s resistant to change.”

“I like that,” I say to him, pushing against the roar of my pulse in my ears. It’s been nearly two months since I faced Cormac, years for him. “I’m ‘resistant to change.’ I think that’s a compliment coming from a would-be immortal.”

“Would-be?” Cormac cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t undersell me.”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” I assure him. “And, might I say, Cormac, that you haven’t aged a day.”

Cormac’s smirk deepens. “I’m glad we don’t have secrets anymore. Now you know what I can offer you. Erik,” he says, turning his attention to him, “I guess I know why you didn’t come back. It’s impolite to go after your boss’s wife.”

“Adelice isn’t your wife,” Erik says, stepping closer to me.

“She will be,” Cormac says. “You were supposed to watch her, not help her escape.”

“What’s he talking about?” Jost demands.

“You know how adept your brother is at keeping secrets, Jost. I suppose he never told you—” Dante begins.

“I see where she gets her smart tongue from,” Cormac butts in. “Don’t look so surprised, Adelice. Valery has kept us well informed of the many sordid developments from the surface.”

“That was low, you old dog,” Kincaid says, wagging a finger at Cormac. “You knew she was my style.”

“It takes an old dog to know one,” Cormac says. “And you know we can’t be taught new tricks.”

The exchange is cordial, even amused, like old friends bantering.

“That’s it!” I yell, stamping my foot. “Don’t you want to kill each other?” Because I wouldn’t mind killing both of them.

“Of course,” Cormac says.

“But we can be gentlemanly about it,” Kincaid says.

I storm forward against the protests of Erik.

“You hate him,” I say, pointing from Kincaid to Cormac, “and I assume he hates you. Why the charade?”

“I don’t hate him,” Cormac says. “I pity him.”

Kincaid makes a choking noise and flips his gloves in his hands. “I don’t need your pity, Cormac. I’ve found the Whorl. The girl has done her part and extricated him, and now your blessed world will unravel into the universe. My only regret is that you won’t be there to fade into the stars with it. But you can watch. Imagine everything you worked for, lied for, killed for—gone.”

“Sour grapes,” Cormac says with a false laugh. He waves off Kincaid’s threat. “Come back to Arras. I’m prime minister. Everything will be running smoothly once we tie up this loose end.”

I’m surprised when he gestures to me. “You need me,” I remind him.

“Need? Perhaps want is a better term. Wait, I have an offer you can’t refuse, my love, but right now the men are talking,” Cormac says, wagging a finger.

“I don’t see any men here,” I say, but they ignore me.

“An intriguing proposition,” Kincaid says, “but I’m afraid I’ve grown fond of Earth. My estate is lovely, I took the liberty of claiming it from the man with the newspapers. The one we ripped early on.”

“Hearst? I remember him. Troublemaker,” Cormac says.