I clasped Fraschkit's shoulder in a brief display of gratitude. Then before she could change her mind, I started off down the cobblestone path. Behind me, she murmured a command to a couple of other Guardians, and they jogged after me. I hoped they were there to deliver Fraschkit's decisions to whatever Guardians stood outside the cell and not to spy on me, but their intentions didn't really matter as long as they let me see Isalio.

The further we strayed from the plaza, the darker the village became. Soon, only the moonlight illuminated the thatch-roof shanties lining the path.

The Guardians accompanying me stopped outside a rundown brick building and gestured me inside. Light skipped over crumbled bricks like an eerie, toothless smile. Inside, a single human worked the front desk. Her eyes widened when we approached.

"This one will stay in the cell, too," one of the Guardians said, gesturing at me.

"But the other Guardians said—"

"Orders have changed. We have a directive straight from the new Leader."

The human frowned. "Is it true what they are saying? Is our Demon prisoner truly the High Prince?"

"So it seems," the first Guardian said neutrally. "Where is his cell?"

"Is he really as dangerous as everyone says?"

"Don't worry," said the Guardian. "The humans are safe. The Guardians have complete control over the situation."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from disagreeing. The humans' safety was in question, and the Guardians' control even moreso. Isalio would not harm anyone in here—I had to hold onto that belief—but other Demons or beasts certainly might. And I had little faith the Guardians could get Isalio to do anything that he didn't want to do.

Fuck, I sure couldn't.

The human pointed to a dark space at the far other end of the jailhouse. "He's in the cell downstairs."

I followed the other two Guardians past a dozen cells. The cells were all empty except for a worn mattress, a single chair, and a dim lamp, all framed by bent, rusty bars. Not desirable accommodations by any means, but clean and comfortable enough. I wondered if the village rarely experienced crime or if whichever petty criminals had been here were pardoned the moment the High Demon Prince was brought in.

As we passed the cells, the stairwell appeared, a winding stone pathway through a gap in the wall. The other Guardians and I had to turn sideways to fit through the stairwell's entrance, and the way down wasn't much better.

At the bottom of the stairs, darkness shadowed everything for a second before my Guardian vision illuminated the space. Kardki and one other Guardian stood watch outside a single door. Unlike the barred cells I had seen upstairs, this cell featured only a steel door buried in a stone wall.

"Fraschkit asked us to bring this Guardian to the cell," the Guardian beside me informed Kardki. "He will stay here tonight."

Kardki raised her eyebrows at me. "Brother Remgar? What happened?" Her gaze darted between the two Guardians who had accompanied me. "Why are we imprisoning the one who saved us?"

"It's fine, Kardki," I said. "I asked for this. I need to watch over him."

Kardki's eyebrows pulled close together, but after a moment, she nodded at her comrade. "Bring a mattress for Brother Remgar, please." Then she slotted a key into the steel door.

The door creaked open, revealing a cell that was—completely empty? No mattress, no chair, no lamp, and no Isalio. What had they done with him?

Then my gaze caught on the darkest corner, where a figure huddled, head low and legs pulled up to his chest.

My throat dried. They had him sitting here in the dark without even a chair? Instead of jogging toward him like I wanted to, I forced myself to hide my reaction until the other Guardians left. Kardki hung a lantern on the wall beside the door, illuminating the grime covering the room, but the gaunt face of the Demon in the corner remained shadowed.

After another Guardian dragged in a mattress, they exited, and the door sealed shut behind them. I was reminded of the time I met Isalio weeks ago—of that moment when I realized the Demon and I were alone. It was bizarre to think how much had changed since then.

Outside the cell, I could hear nothing: no voices and no footsteps. I hoped the Guardians outside could hear equally little of what went on inside.

Plucking the lantern off the wall, I stepped toward Isalio. "Hey, are you hurt?"

His head snapped up—but instead of the relieved reaction I was hoping for, his lip curled, and his voice was pure acid. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to protect you."

"Well, I'm fine. Now leave."

My step faltered. "What?"

"Leave. Get out. I don't want you here."

The frustration and fear of the last hour bubbled over, and my voice rose loud and sharp. "Don't want me here? What the fuck do you want? Through that whole trial, you just—you just—fuck, do you want to be killed or tortured? The Duchess said you have a pain kink or something. Is it true? Do you even care at all what happens? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you? You're the one who doesn't know how to be who you were born to be."

That hit like a fist to the gut, momentarily winding me. How could he have known those were exactly the words needed to destabilize me? You're no Guardian. I took a half-step back and glanced toward the door. But when I snuck one more glance at Isalio, I noticed something that cut right through my anger and self-doubt.

His fingernails had once been so well-manicured. Now, they were torn and jagged.

When did that happen? Back in the Demon's dungeon? No, I would have noticed it sooner. That happened in the wagon on the way to the trial. When he was alone, free to show the panic he kept hidden in public.

"You've been biting your nails."

He tucked his hands behind his legs, and his voice croaked with some kind of deranged humor. "My nails? All this, and you're worried about my nails?"

"I'm worried about you. Why are you fighting me on this, Isalio? Why don't you want me to protect you?"

A choked laugh. "Rem, you're just—you don't—"

His voice crackled and gave out. Then he pulled his knees in closer to his chest and dropped his head down lower, hiding his face entirely. Even with my Guardian senses, the sound and movement was barely perceptible—the unevenness of his breath, the tremor in his shoulders.

My heart clenched. "Isalio...are you crying?"

When he didn't answer, I closed the distance between us in slow, careful steps, as if not to frighten a wild animal. Crouching before him, I set the lantern on the floor and lifted a hand to touch his arm. His skin was cold and clammy.

"Isa, look at me."

He pulled his arm away from my touch and curled back even further into himself. "You want to know the reason why?" His voice was ragged, muffled by his legs and arms. "Because everyone else is right, and you're wrong. You're the only one who can't see it."

"Can't see what?"

"That I'm every bit the monster they think I am."

Those words silenced me for a moment. Objectively speaking, I probably should have agreed with him. The Morgabeast was undoubtedly a monster, so how could its summoner be anything but? And yet...yet I had seen him do things no monster would do. A monster would not have given up his freedom to free me. A monster would not have agreed to help people who hated him.

A monster would not be falling apart in front of me right now.

"No. The palace tried to turn you into a monster, but they never succeeded."

He shook his head without lifting it. "How can you say that? I've killed so many people. I killed Andradkut's parents, and I killed..."

He killed my family. Those were the words he couldn't bring himself to say, and I heard them so easily because they were the same words already planted in my mind. How could I forgive him for that? I couldn't, really. But I couldn't hate him for it, either.

"That wasn't you." I spoke the words aloud even as I thought them, explaining to both him and to myself. "At least, it wasn't the real you. I don't know what made you Snap, what made you want to destroy the world, but I know that the real you is still there. The real you still has a good heart."

He emitted a choked sound, almost as if trying to speak, but no words followed. Instead, his shoulders began to shake harder.

I lowered myself to the ground beside him, back against the wall, and closed a hand around each of his forearms. When I drew his arms away from his face, I met only brief, feeble resistance. Then his arms succumbed to the gentle force of mine.

The lantern light illuminated his wet cheeks.

"Don't look at me," he whispered.

"Don't hide from me." I wrapped one arm over his shoulder and the other across his chest and pulled him into my side. Again, he provided only half-hearted resistance before his head dropped onto my shoulder and his body caved into mine. I could feel the shiver of his chest, the hitch in his breath from the sobs he attempted to repress.

"This is wrong." His voice crackled, interspersed with shallow breaths. "After—after all I've done, you're—you're not supposed to—I don't deserve—"

"Shh. It's alright." I tightened my arms around him so his side nestled into my own and his cheek pressed against my collarbone. "Just let it out. I got you."

Then any remaining resistance gave away, and sobs wracked his body. My mind whirred, and protectiveness swelled painfully hot and bright in my chest. I wondered if he had ever cried like this before. Even if he had, I doubted he had let anyone else see it. Though I could sense he was ashamed of this moment of weakness, to me it was a strange kind of honor to watch him come undone. I felt like I should explain that to him, or say something to soothe him, but I couldn't find any words. So I sat, unmoving, just holding him tightly.

Minutes passed before his sobs came to a shuddering halt. He lifted his head a little from my shoulder, though he didn't try to free himself from my arms.

"Remgar, there are Guardians right outside the door."

"And so?"

"And so, they could barge in any moment. If they see you with your arms around me..."

"Let them. I don't think I have anyone fooled, anyway. They already know that I...that I care for you."

He turned his head just far enough to study my eyes. I wasn't sure what he was looking for. His own face was unreadable.

"I don't know how you do it," he said. "How you always see the good in everyone."

"Not everyone." The growled reply left my mouth without my command. "Not Danif."

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. Then it faded, and his eyebrows drew closer together. When his head fell back against my chest, I lifted the arm wrapped over his front and slowly, tentatively, threaded my fingers through his hair. The black locks were tangled but still soft. I waited for him to pull away or tell me to stop, but he sat motionless, barely breathing. My thumb slipped down to brush the side of his neck.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips.

He was back to the Isalio I had last kissed, the one who had melted into every touch. Do what you want with me, Remgar. It would have been so easy to tilt his chin up to capture his lips with my own. To pull our shirts off over our heads so I could see in full detail the lean muscles I now felt pressed against me, and so I could warm him up skin-to-skin.

Part of me wanted that—badly—but there was something else I wanted even more.

"Isa...will you tell me the truth of what happened to you?"

He stiffened a little but did not withdraw. "I already told everyone the truth. I'm guilty, and I wasn't forced."

"But I want to know what made you do it. Why did you Snap? Why did you want to destroy the world?"

"The trial is over now, and my story isn't an excuse. The Guardians won't care."

"This isn't for the Guardians. This is just for me."

When several seconds passed in silence, I regretted asking—regretted disrupting the calm that had finally settled over him moments ago.

"You don't have to tell me," I said. "Not now, at least. You've been through enough for tonight."

He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. "No, it's alright. If you really want to know, I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."