I kiss him before I can think too hard about it.
His surprise is immediate. He freezes, then his hands frame my face. The surprise melts into relief, then hunger.
He kisses me back, gentle at first. When I don't pull away, he deepens it, pulling me closer.
I let him. Force myself to lean into it, to respond, to pretend this is what I want.
He pulls back slightly, searching my face. "Ardena?"
"I'm tired of being angry," I say. The lie comes smooth. "I'm tired of fighting. I just want things to go back to how they were."
Something in his expression softens. "I've been waiting for you to say that."
He stands, pulling me with him. His hands are gentle, careful, like I'm something fragile that might shatter. He leads me to the bed, sitting on the edge and drawing me between his knees.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his hands resting on my hips.
"Yes." I cup his face, forcing tenderness into the gesture. "I'm sure."
He kisses me again, slower. His hands move to my gown, fingers fumbling with the laces. I stand still, let him undress me. The fabric falls away.
He looks at me like he's seeing something precious. Something he thought he'd lost.
The mate bond with Kieran pulses in my chest. Faint but steady. I push it down, bury it deep where Rhys can't see.
He removes his own clothes, then guides me onto the bed. He hovers over me, his weight supported on his arms.
"I'll be gentle," he promises.
I nod. Close my eyes.
He enters me slowly, carefully. His breath hitches. "Gods, I missed this."
I make the appropriate sounds. Move my hips in the right ways. Wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. Every motion is mechanical, calculated, empty.
He doesn't notice. Or maybe he doesn't want to notice.
He moves above me, whispering against my skin—apologies for the execution, promises that everything will be better now, assurances that we'll rebuild what was broken.
"I love you," he breathes into my neck. "I never stopped loving you."
"I know," I whisper back. The words feel like glass in my throat.
He climaxes with a groan, his body shuddering. Then he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so my head rests on his chest. His arm wraps around me, holding me close.
"I knew you'd come back to me," he says, stroking my hair. "I knew the bond would bring you home. You just needed time to remember who you really are. To remember us."
I lie perfectly still, counting his heartbeats. Waiting.
His breathing gradually evens out. Deepens. His hand stills in my hair.
Asleep.
I wait another ten minutes to be sure. Then I carefully extract myself from his arms. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake, just rolls onto his side.
I grab my shift from the floor and slip into the adjoining bathing room, closing the door silently behind me.
The room is small. A large copper tub dominates one corner. A basin and pitcher sit on a wooden stand. Moonlight streams through a high window.
I pour water from the pitcher into the basin. Cold. Good. I need cold.
I scrub my face first. Then my neck. My chest. Everywhere he touched. I scrub until my skin turns red. Until the cloth is rough against tender flesh.
Not enough.
I fill the basin again and start over. Scrub harder. The mate bond with Kieran aches in my chest, a constant reminder of what I just did.
"It's necessary," I whisper to my reflection. "It's the only way."
My reflection doesn't answer. Just stares back with hollow eyes.
I scrub my arms. My stomach. Between my legs. Washing away every trace of him. My skin burns. Raw and painful.
Good. I deserve the pain.
The water in the basin turns pink. I've scrubbed too hard, broken skin. Blood mixes with water and soap.
I keep scrubbing.
The door opens behind me. I freeze.
Rhys stands in the doorway, sleep-rumpled and concerned. "Ardena? What are you doing?"
I set down the cloth slowly. "Just cleaning up."
He steps closer, sees the pink water, the raw patches on my arms. His expression shifts. "You're hurting yourself."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding." He takes the cloth from my hands. "Let me help."
"I said I'm fine!" The words come out sharper than I intend.
He flinches. For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then his expression hardens.
"This is about him, isn't it?" His voice drops. "The rogue. You're trying to wash him away."
I don't answer. Can't answer without revealing too much.
"He's dead, Ardena." Rhys steps closer, backing me against the basin. "Whatever you think you felt for him, it wasn't real. He manipulated you. Used the mate bond confusion to make you believe lies."
"I know." The lie tastes like copper. "That's why I'm trying to forget."
"Then let me help you forget." He reaches for me.
I step sideways, putting space between us. "I need a moment alone. Please."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Don't take too long. You need rest."
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
I sink down against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. The raw skin on my arms burns. The mate bond with Kieran pulses steady and sure.
I didn't betray him. I did what was necessary. This is war, and in war, you do whatever it takes to survive.
But the lie sits heavy in my chest.
I press my face against my knees and let myself feel it—the disgust, the guilt, the crushing weight of what I just sacrificed for intelligence and freedom of movement.
Then I lock it away. Bury it deep where it can't interfere with what needs to be done.
I have a role to play. A perfect Luna who's come back to her senses. Who's grateful to be home. Who's ready to forgive and move forward.
I stand, rinse my arms clean, and return to bed.
Rhys pulls me close again in his sleep. I lie awake until dawn, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until I can pass more information to Sera.
Three more weeks. That's what Kieran's last message said. Three more weeks until everything is ready.
I can endure anything for three more weeks.
Even this.