Isalio's chamber was an uneven oval, creased with a couple of dark ridges. In the back, a single stalactite tapered from a pillar at the top to a paper-thin needle at the ground. The accommodations were a surprising improvement over his cell at Sitaklasa: a wooden table and chair, a lumpy mattress with a pile of blankets, and a warm glow from electric lamps. But it was the sight of Isalio himself that made my jaw drop.

He lounged back in the chair with his legs stretched out under the table in front of him, crossed at the ankle with one toe bobbing. A forest-green shirt hugged his lean shoulders and torso, unbuttoned at the top to expose a smooth patch of chest. The matching draw-string pants hung low on his hips and loosely outlined his long lean legs. Clean damp hair swooshed over his forehead and brushed his shoulders.

His hand draped over a glass of amber liquid, so casually that the cuff on his wrist looked like a fashion statement. I eyed the shine of his eyes, the relaxed smile on his lips, the half-empty bottle perched beside his glass. If there had been any question of what he was drinking, the smell gave it away—the bitter sting of zaikut burned my nostrils even from several feet away.

Bakvar rolled the boulder back into place behind me, closing us off from the corridor and from everyone else, but I barely even registered it. I continued staring at Isalio, heart thumping with a confused mixture of fear, anger, and lust.

Jabbing a finger at the bottle, I spat, "Where did you get that?"

"It was a gift from Andradkut. He said he found it in the kitchen."

"And you thought it was a good idea to drink it? Now?"

"You're cute with your brow all scrunched like that."

I scrubbed a hand over my face. "Fuck. How drunk are you?"

He tilted his head and tapped his lips. "Maybe three sips past adorable, but several gulps short of wasted." He lifted the glass to his lips.

I snagged his wrist and wrenched the glass from his hand. "What are you doing, Isalio? Why did you accept zaikut from Andradkut?"

"You said he wouldn't hurt me."

"I was ordering him not to hurt you. I wasn't ordering you to accept anything he gave you. Besides, even if Andradkut wouldn't hurt you, someone else at the Mantle could have taken advantage of your state."

He shrugged. "Eh, you worry too much."

"And you worry too little."

"Oh, calm down. I know what I'm doing."

"So you're deliberately disrespecting me?"

His smile disappeared, and his voice sharpened. "Oh, I'm disrespecting you? Because I'm having fun without you?"

"Because you're under my protection, and you're making it fucking difficult."

"I didn't ask for your protection." He rose to face me, shoulders squared with my own. He stood steady, slightly assuaging my fears about his level of intoxication—but only slightly. "Why don't you go join your people? I've got zaikut to warm me up, so I don't need you here tonight. And anyway, I was having more fun before you came."

I plunked the glass of zaikut onto the table, splashing some over the side. "Why did you even join us, if you don't want me around and don't want my protection? Do you just enjoy making a mess out of everything?"

He shoved both hands into my chest, and I rocked back a step, more out of surprise than from the force. "As if you're one to talk, Remgar. You seem determined to get yourself killed, racing back after your base was already demolished, almost jumping from the window of the fiftieth floor, driving a warper straight into the prison. Every time I make a plan, you do something outrageous, and I'm back to square one."

There it was again—his precious plan that ruled high over his desires. I scoffed. "Be candid with me; surely at least the zaikut can help with that. Do you even want me, or is it only ever about some greater plan?"

He barked a humorless laugh. "You want candid? I'll give you candid. You asked why I kissed you, but what about why you kissed me? The first time, you wanted answers. The second time, you wanted freedom. And both times, you hated yourself for doing it."

The fury in his voice shocked me into silence. After a few seconds, I drew a breath. "Well, that's just not...those were complicated situations, but I think I've made my desires clear since then."

"Oh, have you? We slept together last night, and you didn't even touch me except to warm me up. Fucking noble Guardian, doing what must be done even though—" He grimaced and looked away. "I'm being ridiculous. You're right; I shouldn't have had that zaikut."

I blinked at him. His accusations baffled me, but they also made a strange kind of sense. "No, I'm glad you're telling me this. I can't fix anything if I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

He shook his head. "But you're not doing anything wrong. You never do. And after everything I've done, it's no wonder you can't stand to touch me."

"Can't stand to touch you? Is that what you think?" I hissed a chhh. "Isalio, I just don't want to be another Danif."

His chest deflated a little. "Well, you are not another Danif, Remgar. You're something much worse."

Confusion muddled my anger. "Worse, how?"

"For the last fourteen years, I didn't care about the world. In fact, I would have enjoyed watching the world burn down, even if I burned with it. But that was because I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"That the world had you in it."

The words were more a frustrated sigh than a bold proclamation, like someone reprimanding a partner for forgetting to clean the dishes; not a grand swell of emotion but a small leak in a pipe that had been pumping too much water for too long. My chest squeezed in response, and a giddy rush of warmth buzzed through my veins as though I was the one who had consumed too much zaikut.

Because Isalio was just as affected as I was, and just as frustrated by it.

"Oh," I managed, several seconds too late.

His eyes dropped to watch his boot scuff the ground. "You're the kindest Guardian—no, the kindest being I've ever met—and you're the worst thing that could have happened to me. Because if something happens to you, or even if you just decide that you no longer..." He swallowed and licked his lips. "Never in my life have I felt fear like this. Not even alone in the dungeon."

I laid one hand on his shoulder and used the other to gently tip his chin upward. "Isa."

He met my eyes. His expression was pained, haunted even, and also uncomfortably vulnerable, as though he was standing before me completely stripped while I was still fully clothed. But I was no more clothed than he was, and I decided I should tell him so.

"You asked why I rescued you from the dungeon. I said I wasn't thinking, but the truth is, I was thinking too much. I kept wondering what Danif might be doing to you, and I...I couldn't let anyone hurt you. Then when I finally got you to somewhere I thought you'd be safer, you kept putting yourself in harm's way, and that made me so mad because—" My voice broke, stripped away by the powerful emotion that pushed up from my chest, an emotion I refused to name. "Everyone seems to want you dead, and I can't accept that. No one sees you for who you truly are, including you. Maybe especially you."

He breathed a quick exhale, almost a laugh if not for the catch in his throat. "You shouldn't be worried about me when your own people are in danger."

"You're one of my people. You're..." Again, that swell of emotion I would not name stole my breath. "You're my person now."

Now his eyes filled with tears, and his voice choked. "I'm not worth it, Remgar. After what I've done, I'm not worth anything."

My hand slipped from his shoulder to settle on the small of his back. "Well, luckily I still have a million times left to say this: you're good, Isalio. And you'll just have to accept me trying to protect you because I'm not going to stop, even if the whole world stands against me."

For a second, he stared at me, unbreathing.

Then he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss.

I froze, overwhelmed by the flood of contradicting sensations. Smooth lips; sharp sting of zaikut. Cold skin; heat engulfing my core. Tension and confusion; raging desire.

He stumbled away from me and clasped a hand over his mouth, lips wet, eyes bright, and expression stricken. "Sorry, I don't why I just—I wasn't thinking."

It was exactly what I had wanted to hear. For once, Isalio was not following a plan or pleasing someone else. He was giving into temptation, just like I was.

So I recaptured his mouth with mine.

Like with our first two kisses, the electric buzz enchanted me, but this time, it seemed to be pulsing between us. My hands threaded his slippery-soft hair, and his hands tugged on my curls. My lips explored his sharp cheekbones and angular nose, and his lips breathed shivers into my ear and scorched a trail across my collarbone.

But when he dropped to his knees in front of me and fumbled with the tie of my pants, I trapped his hands between my own.

It wasn't that I didn't like what he seemed to be planning. Fuck, most of me was entirely too willing to see where this led, because if his lips on my collarbone had felt that good...

I shook my head, banning the images from my mind. "Stop. Stand up."

He looked stricken, even sick, and he spoke in a strangled whisper. "I want this. Don't you want it?"

Regret tugged at my gut, sharp and potent. For a moment, I wished I had given in. Then his eyes would be closed instead of studying mine, and in place of that tense line of his mouth, his lips would be...no. I wanted it, but not like this. The way his eyes darted between mine—lost and perplexed—validated my fears. He was reenacting a scene that had played out many times before.

"Not like this," I said. "This doesn't feel right."

"Why? Are you afraid someone will hear?"

I frowned at the boulder, wondering for the first time whether it was soundproof and whether anyone still stood on the other side. "I probably should be, but no, that's not it."

"Then what would feel better? Do you want...would you like to..."

I waited for him to finish the sentence, but he only looked at me as if the ending was already obvious. "Do I want what?"

"You can...hurt me. If you want."

That feeling of wrongness grew ten times stronger, choking my breath. "Why would I want to do that?"

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "I hurt you."

"You didn't want to hurt me."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "But don't you like it when I submit to you?"

Nausea bubbled up in my gut. He had assured me I wasn't another Danif, but clearly, he didn't even know how else a relationship could function.

"Stand up," I repeated.

He clambered to his feet. His eyes dropped to my feet, his jaw clamped shut, and his arms hugged himself. I wanted to give him a hug—but there was something else I wanted to give him more.

I lowered myself to one knee.