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My lack of spectral education suddenly seemed more frightening than ever.

“Did you ever consider telling me?” Keil asked. “Back in Daradon?” He kept his voice mild, as though to avoid spooking me out of this conversation.

It wasn’t necessary. Talking with Keil had always felt effortless. The hard part had been maintaining my walls against him, even when I’d believed he was my rival. “I’d always wanted to find another Wielder,” I admitted. “But . . .”

“But revealing your greatest secret to the man who had once kidnapped you didn’t strike you as the brightest idea.” He sighed, the sound full of regret. “I’m sorry I made it impossible for you to trust me.”

“I’m sorry I threatened to have you killed.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Which time?”

I was leaning back against the dresser, returning his smile, when pain shot up my spine, making me gasp.

Keil straightened, suddenly serious. “You’re hurt.”

“Just sore from earlier, but—”

“Where?”

“From my tailbone upward, but it’s not—”

Before I could finish, Keil strode back into his room. He returned with a pot of salve.

“The bathing chamber had a medical kit,” he explained, unscrewing the lid. “We can do it on the bed, if you prefer.”

My skin immediately heated. “I can manage on my own.”

He raised an eyebrow. “From your tailbone upward?”

“I happen to lace my own corsets.”

“As much as I appreciate that lovely visual, I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

I gave him a look. “Applying salve shouldn’t be that much more difficult.” I went to take the pot, but he lifted it beyond my reach, the movement bringing our faces closer. I was about to snap at him when he offered a small, weary smile.

“You’re in pain,” he repeated, softer. “And I would like to help you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not saying you need help,” he clarified, “or that you can’t do this on your own.” He lowered the pot, extending it toward me. “I’m only saying you don’t have to.”

I swallowed. This would be more intimate than when he’d taken down my hair this morning. More baring than any moment we’d spent together yet.

But as Keil waited patiently, still offering me the pot—and the chance to send him away for good—I knew I didn’t want him to go.

So I stepped back. Nodded.

Keil turned while I shimmied up my blouse and lay forward on the bed, head resting in the crook of my arm. I shivered as the air kissed my exposed back but warmed again at the low rumble of Keil’s voice. “Ready, my lady?”

“Yes,” I said, a little hoarse.

The mattress dipped as Keil positioned himself beside my right hip, his calm presence a contrast to my own jittery heartbeat. My hair whispered over my ear as he swept it aside, leaving the tresses to drape over my shoulder.

I tried to focus on the sound of the clock, ticking on the dresser. Nothing untoward was happening here—just one ally treating another’s injuries. Yet my face was slowly flushing under the heat of my own quickening breaths, gathering in the crook of my elbow.

“You can ask me, you know.”

My pulse skipped. “Excuse me?”