“Ten.” The huskiness of his Irish lilt turns my name into a thousand other words. The one I cling to—Love.

    I can’t catch my breath, and I’m not sure I want to. Every inhalation marks the passage of time. A second closer to our parting. I want to stay here forever.

    “Killian.” His name is a soft invocation. He’s here, and he’s in front of me. A literal dream come true. I wish I could scent his peat smoke and heather, my two favorite scents in the world.

    I wish I could touch him.

    I remember the bone-deep cold a single graze of skin-to-skin contact causes, but I can’t bring myself to care. I know the agony of being without him, and I would endure anything to hold him in my arms again.

    I sheathe my dagger and step forward.

    “What are you doing? Arm up not down.” Expression hardening, he lifts his chin, squares his shoulders and straightens his spine. He angles the sword, pointing the tip in my direction. “I told you what would happen the next time we were together.”

    I’ve seen him do this with others, and I know he’s preparing himself for battle. For the horrors to come.

    Unease pricks the back of my neck. Elizabeth’s warning... Clay’s warning... Am I a fool to ignore them?

    Stop! Why am I entertaining doubt? When it came time to pick a realm, doubt kept me imprisoned with indecision. I have to trust my instincts.

    Right now my instincts are screaming: remember the dream. The birds attacked me only when my attention veered away from Killian.

    What if the birds represent misgivings and other people’s expectations?

    “I’m not going to fight you,” I tell him.

    “Your new family hasn’t convinced you to hate me, then?” His voice is devoid of emotion. “They must not have shared the worst of my sins with you.”

    Does he fear my disdain? “You’re a horrible person, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all. Can we move on to the happy to see you portion of our reunion?”

    A flash of hope—of Light?—before he scowls. “Still your stubborn self, I see. Your instructors must mourn the day they met you.”

    Does he? “You can’t stay here. TLs are stationed around the perimeter, commanded to kill Myriadians on sight.”

    Now there’s a flash of surprise. “I’ve done a sweep. We’re clear—for now.” His gaze roves over me...and heats. “How are you, lass?”

    I shiver and lick my lips. “I’m curious. What does 143 mean?”

    A smile flashes, gone within a single heartbeat. “What do you think it means?”

    “I...love you,” I say and shift from one foot to the other.

    “Do you, then?” He sheathes his sword at last, a gleam of wickedness in his siren-song eyes. “I had no idea. Thank you.”

    “Killian.” I anchor my fists on my hips. “Do you love me or not?”

    He extends his arm and holds his wrist under a ray of golden sunlight. I notice his slight tremor and melt. I—His Shell has been tattooed. The numbers 143,10 stare at me, and I gasp.

    I love you, Ten.

    My hand flutters to my heart.

    Killian closes the distance and frames my face with his big hands. I expect pain, but there’s none. I expect a chill, but the temperature of my Shell never changes.

    A Troikan and Myriadian Shell can touch without complications?

    He presses his forehead to mine and breathes me in. “I love you so much I hurt.”

    My pulse points hammer. Suspecting his feelings isn’t the same as knowing his feelings, and I... I’m... I throw my arms around him, embracing him the way I’ve longed to do since we parted. I hold him tight, so tight I would bruise him without the insulation of the Shell.

    He runs his fingers through my hair. “I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about you every day, dreamed about you every night. I’ve had to play my bosses to keep myself out of trouble and assigned to your case.”

    “I’m still a case?”

    “You’re a Conduit, lass. You’ll always be a case.” He rubs his cheek against mine. “I’m supposed to romance you and convince you to betray your realm.”

    Elizabeth would insist he’s playing me now, only telling me what I want to hear while explaining any actions he takes against me. Clay would insist he hadn’t misunderstood Levi and Meredith.

    My trust never wavers. “How can I help you stay out of trouble with your bosses without harming Troika or a human?”

    He straightens, as if he’s been jerked by an invisible chain. His beautiful eyes fill with amazement as they search my face. “Convince your Generals to deny Dior’s request for a day in court.”

    Wait, wait, wait. “How will that keep you safe? How doesn’t that harm Troika? Or Dior! If she’s with you through duress, she’s not really with you.”

    “Forget trying to keep me safe. Myriad is using Dior against you.”

    “How?”

    “I don’t know.”

    You’re about to learn the harsh reality of the war between realms, and the betrayal you will always face at the hands of our enemy.

    What possible motive could Killian have for—

    Um, hello! That’s easy. He’s already given me the answer—to stop Dior from going to court.

    I grind my teeth. Enough! Instinct over circumstance. Heart over logic.

    “I believe you,” I tell him. People can call me foolish and judge my decisions all they want. They will be looking at the situation through the dusty lens of the past. I see who this boy has become. “But I can’t abandon Dior. You haven’t seen her sobbing on the floor. If you’re worried about Penumbra—”