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I try to focus on the dagger in my hand, the one poised at his throat, but my attention keeps slipping. My eyes betray me, drawn to his mouth, to the curve of his lips, to the way they part slightly as he breathes.

Kato mentioned there were other ways for wings to emerge. I’d dismissed it at the time, but now the idea flutters at the edge of my thoughts, desperate to be acknowledged.

It might work. It might not matter at all.

But would Lyxander be willing?

“Stormwind,” he breathes, the word slipping from his lips like a secret.

The sound of it sends a shiver through me, and before I can react, his hand moves. Slowly, he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush against my skin, warm despite the cold, and the touch is so gentle it makes my breath hitch.

I wet my lips, and his eyes follow the movement. “Kato mentioned something about other ways to emerge,” I say finally.

His gaze snaps back to mine, and my heart stutters.

Then, slowly, he exhales, his breath curling in the air. “I need to make something clear.”

Cold rushes over my skin and sinks deep into my chest. My throat tightens, and I start to pull away, but his hands land on my hips, holding me in place.

“I won’t be a trial for you to test yourself against,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “If you kiss me, Aella, I need to know it’s because you want to. Not because you’re chasing something else.”

The words are like a challenge thrown down before me, tearing through the thin veneer of reason I’ve been clinging to and exposing the raw truth beneath. Because I do want to kiss him. I want to know if his lips are as soft as they look, if I’d feel the press of his canines when he deepens the kiss, if he’d taste like pine and petrichor, like the wild mountain air that clings to him.

The thought is a fire in my chest, burning hotter with every second I stay here, his hands firm on my hips, his gaze locked on mine.

But I can’t let myself want that.

I can’t let myself feel anything more for him.

Because I’m leaving. Whether I’m banished by the queen or not, it doesn’t matter. My path is already set, and it leads away from here. Away from him.

And he will stay.

There’s no doubt in my mind about that. Lyxander belongs here, to this place, to his people. He would never leave his home, his kin, his duty. He would never choose me.

No one ever has.

And yet, I can’t move.

His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers pressing into the fabric of my tunic.

He tugs me closer, and I let him, leaning into the pull, into him, as if drawn by some invisible force I can’t resist. My breath mingles with his in the cold air, the space between us narrowing until it’s almost nothing.

Just once. Maybe, just once.

A scream cuts through the air like a serrated blade.

Lyxander’s head snaps toward the sound, his body going rigid beneath me.

I scramble off him, still clutching my daggers as another scream sounds, shrill and choked with something primal—fear.

“Did that come from—”

“Silkbank.” He’s on his feet before he’s finished the word, snatching up his fallen sword and slamming it into the sheath at his waist. Tension rises in every line of his body, but his gaze flashes between me and the direction of the tower.

“Don’t even think about it, Lyxander,” I warn, my voice low.

The resolve in his eyes hardens as another scream echoes.