“It’s okay. I didn’t know what I was missing,” I say. The second the words launch from my lips I want to take them back.

In my own confusion, I hadn’t even thought of how Jost would take this news. Jost is thinking about Sebrina. Each day we spend on Earth is weeks in Arras. Each second that passes, Jost’s daughter slips further from his fingers. She doesn’t know what she is missing either.

But he does.

“I’m going to digest breakfast,” Erik says, although he hasn’t eaten a bite. Nothing about his tone is casual. He must have picked up on what was going on long before I did. Proof, once again, that the brothers are more attuned to each other than either would like to admit. He slips into the hall with a faint farewell, but I see his eyes turn back to his brother. He wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.

“I’m sorry, Jost,” I say as the door shuts behind Erik.

“For what?” Jost asks, but there’s an edge to his voice.

“It didn’t occur to me,” I admit. “I didn’t think about Sebrina.”

“It’s not your responsibility to think about her,” he says, but it’s these words that reveal that the edge in his voice isn’t anger, it’s pain. I’ve hurt him. Not by reminding him of Sebrina or of how quickly he’s losing her, but because I hadn’t cared enough to think about it in the first place.

“I was so caught up in what Dante told me,” I say, but the excuse sounds lame. “I didn’t even think about Amie until now.”

“Amie’s a lot older,” he reminds me.

“And very impressionable,” I say, thinking back to how eager she was to be tested. How fascinated she was with the Bulletins, fawning over the Spinsters and their beautiful dresses. “She’s in danger, too. Cormac knows about her and she’s getting closer and closer to the age of Eligibility. We can’t waste time here. We need a plan.”

“Do you think Kincaid can help us?” Jost asks, and I can tell he doesn’t think Kincaid can—or will.

“I think it’s worth finding out,” I say. “We need help. Resources.”

Jost’s head snaps back and he stares at me, his eyes on fire. What did I say?

“Sorry I couldn’t provide for you,” he says in a low rumble.

I’m caught off guard by his reaction. I stumble to find words that aren’t angry or annoyed. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Is this some sort of male-ego thing?” I ask. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you to save me.”

“Maybe I want to save you.” He’s practically growling now. He’s not angry. It’s something else. Something primal. Something I’ve never seen in Jost before, and I understand. He couldn’t save Sebrina, but he wouldn’t lose me.

“That’s noble—”

“There’s nothing noble about it,” he says. His lips are on mine then and they crush so hard that I feel his teeth cut against the soft flesh of my mouth. I’m torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

The latter wins out.

But I don’t let him control the kiss. I push back harder as his arms circle my waist, pulling me roughly to him.

“Romantic,” I murmur through our fighting lips.

“Wow. This is your idea of romantic?” he asks. His grip on me loosens and his hands drop from my back. “I need to work on this with you.”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” I say, drawing him to me. I trace his shoulders, my fingers trailing along his chest until I bunch his shirt in my fists and force him to me. He doesn’t resist. He wants the world to fade away, too. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.

His mouth forces mine open, and my body reacts in interesting ways. First, there’s the tingle in my fingers I always feel when we kiss, but it spreads out, gathering finally into throbbing energy. We break apart, panting, and then I push him back against the fireplace and kiss him again. His body presses into mine, and he flips me around so that now I’m gripping the stone mantel. The stone is cold, sending shivers rippling through me, but I don’t care. His hands twist and grab my wrists, pinning them up over my head as his lips trace the hollow under my jaw.

“This is romantic,” he says.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmur between his kisses.

We continue for a while, laughing and teasing and always kissing, but then he pulls back and his face grows distant. He’s stopping us again.

He doesn’t want you, the voice in my head mocks me. You’re not her. You aren’t his perfect wife.

No. I refuse to believe that. There are more important things than my insecurity right now.

“Jost.” I call him back to me. He doesn’t respond until I take his hand.

Tears pool in his eyes, and I feel the hot prickle of tears in my own.

“What are we going to do?” he asks.

“We’re going to talk to Kincaid,” I say firmly. “We can’t make a move until we know how to get back to Arras. Kincaid will know how.”

“How can we trust him?” Jost asks.

I understand his hesitation, even more so because we both have so much to lose if Kincaid betrays us. Kincaid was Guild once, but so were we. And if the Guild has done anything nearly as terrible to him as they have to us, I can’t blame him for abandoning them. I can’t blame him for wanting to destroy them.