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“I only wish to speak if there are no more lies, no secrets.”

I will tell you everything I know.

Her eyes were wet when she looked at me again. “You stole my heart, then you broke it. Perhaps it is not fair of me to blame you when I know much was out of your control, but whatever had grown between us now feels cracked. We will talk, but I do not know what happens next.”

Give me a blade to the belly, an arrow to the chest. Give it all over, knowing I hurt Lyra Bien.

With a dip to my chin, I left her in the wash chamber and went to my own. Salts, oils, and soap chips were aligned in baskets for use. I sank into the pool and scrubbed Fillip’s blood off my body until my skin burned.

Once finished, I found Lyra back in my old bedchamber, hugging one of the bed pillows. The woman was here to torture me, no doubt. She was dressed in one of my tunics. The hem struck just above her knees, and one sleeve slipped off her shoulder. Her damp hair was loose and long down her back, and I had to clench my damn fist to keep from curling my fingers around the locks.

I made a sound in my throat, drawing her attention. Cheeks flushed, she tugged at the hem of the tunic. “I did not have anything else to wear, and after the journey, I think that dress ought to be burned.”

I smiled and stepped against her, a curl to my lip. It suits you.

Lyra nudged her palm against my chest, pushing me back. “I said we’d speak plainly. Can you do so without all your honeyed words muddling my thoughts?”

I do not have a voice.

With a scoff, she shook her head. “You have voice aplenty. And you are trying to seduce or soften me toward you. Stop it.”

I refuse. And I’m a prince, so you cannot command me.

For a moment, I thought she might get angry, or at the least, agitated. Instead, Lyra’s lips parted in feigned stun and…she laughed. “Oh, forgive me”—Lyra bent at the waist in a mock bow—“Prince Ashwood.”

This almost felt normal, like nothing had happened to drive a cruel, bloody wall between us.

But our lives were never destined to be normal.

My smile faded and I spoke with one hand. There are things I must tell you. And I’m almost certain you’re about to get angrier with me.

“Not a promising start.” Lyra sat on the corner of the bed, releasing the pillow she embraced, and folded her hands in her lap. “What happened with the council?”

I made it clear I was no longer their creature.

The word pinched her face. “You are not a creature.”

I dragged a dusty chair to the place in front of her and sat, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My hands formed the words in the space between us. Did you not once think the same?

“Only because I did not know my craft, nor understand why I was pulled into the darkness.” A new gleam of fire burned in her silver scars. “Or do you not recall the night I confessed all my truths to you? I admitted I was captivated by the assassin of Dravenmoor. In that moment, why did you not tell me the truth?”

I wanted to. Each gesture was brisk, a sign of the shouts, the anger, the hate for what I was. A voice she could not hear, but one I hoped she could feel. I shook my head and slowed my hands. Perhaps I ought to have tried. I was certain I did not have full control, and feared…

When my words stalled, Lyra’s face softened. “Feared what?”

I feared my clan would come for you directly if they knew I’d confessed the great Draven scheme to the melder. They would know the chains keeping me under their command had severed. I shook my head and shot to my feet, pacing as I spoke. Not that any of it mattered. They have come for you, and now we are here.

Lyra’s chin dropped. “Could you truly not sense that your soul was not so divided anymore?”

How could I explain any of it? From living a life knowing a piece of my existence could be commanded to slaughter souls, leaving folk helpless to the blades of the Dark Watch, to sensing the severed pieces being stitched together, little by little, the longer I was near this woman.

I lowered to one knee in front of her, hesitated for a breath, then took her palm in mine.

She did not pull away.

Against her hand, I gestured, I knew I felt whole near you, and I did not understand it. All my life I was told that a soul rend left the split soul under the control of the render until the end.

Her fingers curled around mine. “A soul render. Are there many folk with such craft here?”