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My eyes snap up, locking onto his. “Are we asking each other questions now?”

“Now?” He slants his head, the firelight dancing across his features as he studies me. “You’ve been asking them all evening, little bird.”

“And you hardly answered.”

“What was it you said to me?” His expression turns contemplative, then he smirks, sharp teeth flashing. “ ‘I haven’t survived this world by just giving my secrets away for nothing.’ ”

Irritation simmers in my chest at having my own words aimed back at me, and I narrow my eyes on him, before relenting.

“You said you know what it’s like,” I say. “To have this power that wants to break out of you.”

I hold his gaze long enough to watch as he dips his chin, then I glance down. Setting the cup on the ground beside me, I tug off my right glove. The ring on my finger catches the light, and I twist it absently.

And then I tell him.

I tell him about Hali, who hated the Aviary as much as I did. How we spent weeks planning our escape, only for the Eagle and his men to find us as we made it to a boat.

I tell him how I tried to save her, how I begged any god to help, and how my theïkós awakened and the gust of wind drove the boat into the bank while she was still on board.

I tell him that she fell into the canal. And never came back up.

The words hang in the air between us. I don’t look at him as I speak, my gaze fixed on the fire, but I feel the weight of his gaze on me as I finish.

Finally, I force myself to look at him. “That’s why I fear it. Because I meant to save my friend, and I killed her instead.”

“Aella…” All he says is my name, but it rolls off his tongue softer than I’ve ever heard him speak before.

“It’s also why you’re right,” I continue as if he hadn’t spoken, looking down at where the ring glints in the faint light, deceptively small. “I need to stop running.”

Lyxander looks at me with a quiet understanding, and it’s that look that makes me realize he is right. I can’t keep running. I can’t keep hiding from what’s inside me. If I do, I’ll never be able to protect the people I care about. I’ll never be able to protect Nyssa.

Before I can second-guess the decision, I slide the smooth band off. It catches briefly, the heat of hesitation clinging to my skin. Then it slips free.

Memories don’t invade my mind this time, not since I already let them out. But the world sharpens around me—the looming trees and leaf-littered ground cutting into my vision with startling clarity. The air tastes too clean, spilling into my lungs like shards of glass. But beneath it all, within me…

My theïkós.

It rushes forth, thrumming with a rhythm so powerful it might consume me. I’ve felt this before, three times now. Each instance is burned into my memory: desperate, chaotic moments where life and death hung in the balance. I know what’s coming—know the raw, unrelenting force of it—but still it catches me off guard every time.

The wind surges around me, answering its call. It rushes to meet me, swirling so forcefully it seems like it’s trying to pull me apart, piece by piece. Its enthusiasm almost breaks me, stealing the air from my chest, and I fall forward, barely catching myself in time.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself, my breaths coming in shallow gasps as I fight to push myself upright. My fingers tighten around the ring, clutching it like a lifeline. I’ve survived this before, I can survive—

“Breathe.”

The word is a whisper through the roar of the wind, carried to me as warmth wraps around my hand.

“I can’t,” I gasp.

“You can,” Lyxander says with a certainty that soothes me. “Look at me.”

I force my eyes open and look up.

There isn’t a trace of fear in his expression—not of me, or the chaos threatening to consume me. He kneels and leans closer. With him comes a quiet warmth seeping through the cold that clenches my bones. Slowly, he raises the hand that holds mine and presses it against his chest.

“Breathe with me.”

I choke on an inhale; it’s hard to focus. The storm inside me is relentless, a howling void that pulls at the edges of my mind.