Page 168 of Daughter of No Worlds

My breath stilled.

“Not right away,” he went on. “Though, I will admit, ‘It says snp snp’ was fairly charming from the beginning. But a couple of weeks later, when you told me why you had come to Ara and what you planned to do…I’d just forgotten that people couldbethat way. That there were people who just wanted to do something good for the world.”

My eyes burned. I had wanted that — desperately, I wanted it, even though now that goal felt so far out of reach. My mother and Serel had sacrificed for me because they believed in the greater things I could become. But with the echoes of that woman’s sobs scarring my ears, I felt nothing but shame.

I glanced at Max, at his solemn stare, and there was something about the way he looked at me that pierced through all of that — all those doubts, all those insecurities.

“But you are so much more than that, too, Tisaanah,” he said, softly. “I think you forget that. You pushed as hard as I did and saw everything worth seeing and regaled me with your, frankly,terriblejokes, and… you became my friend. Your goals made me respect you, yes. But it was everything else that made me—”

He shut his mouth, cleared his throat, looked away. Then back. “I told you that together we would find a way to do this, and I meant it. But I stand with you until the end.You, Tisaanah. If you wanted to run, I swear we’d find a way out. And if it all goes up in flames, I’ll burn right beside you and it will still be the best thing I—”

I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted salt.

“Stop.”

Suddenly, it made sense.

What do you want?I had asked Max, so many months ago. And I had never quite managed to answer that question, not completely. But now I understood. I understood why he believed in me so much. Because more than anything, Max wanted to believe that one person was capable of making something change. Because—

If you can do it, I can do it.

I choked out, “You can do it even if I can’t.”

A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.

“It’s easy to die for someone,” I said, “but it is so much more valuable to live. I do not give you permission to fail if I fail. Do you understand me?” When he didn’t answer, I pressed, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I don’t believe you.” I placed my palms on either side of his cheeks, resting my forehead against his. He still smelled like ash and lilacs, like he had carried the remnants of his garden all the way across the sea. “You are the best of men, Maxantarius Farlione, no matter how much you try to convince the world otherwise. Promise me that you’ll keeping fighting your battles even if I lose mine.”

“You won’t—”

“Promise.”

His fingers found my face, tracing a warm trail down my cheek. And then, as if a thread had snapped, he pulled me into a sudden, fierce embrace. I sank against it so smoothly, my arms sliding over his shoulders, my knees adjusting so that I curled around him.

“I promise,” he murmured into my hair.

I hoped he wouldn’t expect me to let go, because I wouldn’t. I wanted to drown here, in the way his chest and heartbeat and breath felt against mine. A desperately needed reminder:We are still alive, and we are still together.

I turned my head, just slightly, so that my face was pressed to the smooth skin of his neck, so that I could breathe him in and hold his smell in my lungs.

I brushed my lips against his throat.

His fingers tightened at my back, and that touch seared up my spine, heartbeat rising to the surface of my skin. And in that moment, a truth solidified in my heart, my soul, my blood — a piece of me that wanted nothing more than to seize this chance.

Because I wantedhim.

I wanted him in so many ways. As a friend, as a kindred soul, as a fierce teammate. As skin and lips and teeth. As a hitched breathless moan in the darkness or a lazy embrace in the sunrise. I wanted that. I wanted it all.

I grazed my mouth over his skin again, relishing the sensation of the silent groan that dragged through his breath. I followed it higher, to the corner of his jawbone, skimming my lips over the angle of it, over the raised texture of the little scar there.

A silent question.

He shuddered.

Shuddered and jerked away from me, just far enough so that his eerie, bright eyes bore into my own—

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