Looked down at him. At the chains. At the bruises. At the gold eyes that still burned even when everything else had been beaten dark.
"I'm not going to let you die in here."
"I know."
"I'm not going to let Dhaelon keep this kingdom."
"I know that too."
"And I'm not going to marry him."
Something flickered in his eyes. Bright. Sharp. The first real spark she'd seen since walking into this cell.
"Promise me," he said.
"I promise."
"On what?"
She pressed her hand against her own chest. Over her heart. Over the scar that wasn't there but felt like it was—the one that matched the scar Dhaelon kept reopening across Caldan's chest.
"On this," she said. "On every stupid, reckless, impossible thing I've ever done for you. I promise."
He held her gaze. The chains shifted. His burned hand moved—just an inch, just enough—and his fingers brushed her wrist as she lowered her arm.
Lightning. Even here. Even in a cell that smelled like blood and stone and despair.
