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That you might love me.

“Who cares?” I snap. “None of it is true. You were only ever here for one reason, because I was in the way of something more important to you. Same as Laine. You’re just part of their endless game.” The voice in the back of my head comes forward now. Same as my mother.

Étienne grits his teeth and takes a step toward me. “Rose—do you realize that you are the reason I want to break out of their game?”

I start shaking my head. More lies. More illusions. But he rushes ahead.

“Do you know why I saved you?” he says urgently. “Why I keep getting assigned to you? Because I ask for it.” He looks away, angry with himself, then returns his glare to me. “Before Laine fulfilled her mission for Raven, she made me promise to watch over you. To keep you safe. After what she’d done, she felt this was the least she owed you. Your deal with Raven ensured her survival, but in accordance with a Harbinger’s deal, you could never contact her again. So I kept that promise to her as best as I could.”

“Until?” I snap.

“Until I realized I was doing it for myself.” He’s so close now that I can feel his breath warm against my cheeks. “Because you are so stubborn. You and all your science, your belief in something so real and tangible, your sheer rebellion against the gods.” He laughs once. “The gods! You, defying them, every step of the way.” His eyes are fever-bright now. “The rest of us just took our destinies lying down. But you. Here you are, challenging them, always believing that there must be some other way, some other possibility.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Rose, you believe so deeply in the power of mortals, that we, too, deserve agency. You believe it so much that it infects those around you. You made Laine think there was a way around her mission. You made me believe I could find a way around mine. Do you understand?”

I take a deep breath, pushing away the image of him staggering through the smoke, of him shoving me out of the way of the car. “But none of it mattered. Look at us here.”

His eyes soften for an instant. “Rose,” he says. His hands come up to cup my face, and all I can see now is him, this aching expression, this desire. “The first light was reborn in you because you don’t revolve around others. They orbit you. And the more time I spend with you, the farther I fall.”

I search his gaze, my heart pulled taut. “You shouldn’t,” I reply.

His brow furrows in pain. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“For falling in love with you.”

Then he lowers his head to mine, and he’s kissing me, and it’s too late to stop him.

Oh, this feeling. I had braced myself for it, had come here today knowing this would happen, and yet still. Still. It is almost too much to bear. A soft moan rumbles in the back of his throat. It is such a different feeling from my moment with Raven that I can hardly comprehend it. My patron god’s kiss was overwhelming, dizzying, threatening to drown me. The touch of an immortal, colder than ice, a wave more than a touch.

But Étienne … Étienne is human, so alive that the sweetness of it hurts, his touch real and electric, his soul full of warmth and desire. He feels like it’s meant to be.

Meant to be. In this fateful moment, I’d forgotten what would happen to him should we kiss.

Suddenly, he shoves me away. Staggers back a step.

Looks at me.

His gaze is slightly unfocused, bewildered, startled. He frowns, then looks at my lips before the truth dawns on him. My test. My lie.

I watch him, my heart cracking. “It wasn’t up to me,” I answer.

A deep hurt flashes across Étienne’s eyes. He sways on his feet. The power of death is racing through his veins now, merciless and thorough, draining the color from his face. He runs a finger across his lips, then shivers, as if he can feel the immortal poison that I have given him. My resolve falters at the sight, and in spite of everything, fear stabs at me. I hate him, but I cannot bear to lose him.

He laughs a little, shakes his head, and looks down. He’d believed in our kiss. “Raven put you up to this,” he murmurs.

He staggers until he hits the wall. There, he leans his head back in exhaustion and closes his eyes. His breaths are shallow, and a thin film of sweat beads his skin. The rhythm of his heart must have shifted, the chemical imbalance in his body weakening him, making him unsteady on his feet. He seizes my wrist in an attempt to save himself, then pulls me toward him. I start to wrestle away, but his eyes snap open, desperate and clear, his pupils pinpricks.

“Listen to me,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t bend to him. Okay? There’s always another way. You know it.”

Then he shudders again, and his knees give out. He sinks against the wall.

I kneel before him, my hands on the sides of his face.

“Étienne,” I say sharply, shaking him. “Étienne.”

But his eyes stay closed. His skin feels cold and clammy. When I press a hand against his chest, I can feel how slow his heartbeat has become.

I clench my teeth. My eyes blur with tears.