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My hands jerk on the reins, and I turn so quickly my horse sidesteps under me.

Boone is running toward me.

For one terrifying moment, I think something has happened. Then he reaches my horse breathless and grabs me without giving me a chance to ask what’s wrong. One hand lands against my thigh while the other wraps around the back of my neck, and he pulls me down toward him.

His mouth covers mine.

I freeze.

There is nothing careful about the kiss. It’s hungry and desperate, confused enough that I don’t know whether he means to pull me closer or push me away. His hand presses harder against the back of my neck, and then I taste salt.

Boone is crying.

I cup his face and kiss him back, but when he begins to pull away, I let him. For once, I take nothing he doesn’t willingly give me.

Our mouths separate, but he remains close enough that I can feel his breath against my face. Tears shine in his eyes. I’ve watched Boone cry countless times since he came to the castle, and I’ve caused most of those tears myself.

These are the first ones I don’t understand.

“I don’t…” He looks toward the house, swallowing hard, then turns back to me. “I don’t know why I did that.”

I don’t know either.

Perhaps some part of him loves me. Perhaps he hates me and doesn’t know how to separate that hatred from everything else he feels. Perhaps I’ve become as deeply tangled inside him as he has inside me.

Whatever the reason, he doesn’t owe me an explanation.

My thumb catches a tear under his eye, and I lean down to press my mouth against his forehead.

“Go,” I whisper.

His eyes close.

For one brief moment, Boone leans into my hand, and every instinct I have demands that I pull him onto the horse and take him back with me.

Then he steps away.

I let him.

I look toward the little house at the edge of the woods. His father is somewhere beyond that door, and the life Boone has spent months mourning is finally within his reach.

“Boone?”

He stops without turning completely. Only his eyes lift to mine.

“If you need me, you know where to find me.”

His eyes glisten, and his lips press together as his chin begins to tremble. He gives me a small nod.

Then he turns away.

I watch him cross the road and pass the garden he told me could never grow enough food. His steps slow when he reaches the path leading to the front door, and I grip the reins tighter, waiting to see whether he’ll turn around.

He doesn’t.

I nearly call his name anyway. My mouth opens, but I force myself to remain silent. Loving Boone cannot mean taking him every time losing him hurts.

He reaches the house.