Regret filled my chest, and I shook my head. “I’m—”

Cutting off my apology, she surged ahead. “At least I’m not like you, Zayne. I’m not so hesitant of my power that I’m afraid to use it. If you’d accepted yourself as a necromancer earlier, could you have stopped Inarus faster?”

The punch landed exactly as she’d intended.

If I had understood what I was sooner, would I have done anything differently? Would I have ended Inarus sooner or simply sworn off necromancy entirely? I couldn’t be sure.

Ayla’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You say you’re trying to keep me safe, but you won’t always be there to protect me. I need to be able to take care of myself. I need that lesson.”

And we were back tothis? “Going to himwon’thelp.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

Why doesn’t she get it?

Fury coursed through me. Our argument was becoming circular, and she refused to acknowledge how dangerous this was. Nobody ever acknowledged how dangerous the Starlit King was—not even me, before.

I took a deep breath. “Did you know I couldn’t shadow-step in Karenia? It wasn’t exactly something I could hide.”

She knitted her brows in surprise. “Someone in my mother’s council might have known, but I…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know.”

My throat tightened. “Wielding shadows is difficult so close to the Starlit Throne, the same way they became difficult around the starlit box. Starlight can dismantle shadows. It was the Starlit King himself who explained it to me.”

“You grew up without your shadows? They’re part of you. That’s… terrible.”

“When he gave us sanctuary, he didn’t just invite two powerful fae into his home to help them. The decision may have been popularized as altruism, but when he brought us closer, he suffocated our power.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. After a time, she asked, “Why didn’t the two of you leave earlier?”

“We tried, but there was nowhere to go. By the time we realized our mistake, no one else would host us. I’ve always assumed that he made deals with other isles, ensuring that would be the case. Our only other option was to escape to our homeland. Which we did, eventually.”

Ayla searched my face at a loss for words.

“I can’t trust him. Never again,” I concluded. “Even in something as seemingly simple as this. I know you’re capable—Teyr, you’re right, maybe I’m misconstruing everything—but if I’m forced to watch from the shadows as he reveals some hidden agenda, I’m not sure what I would do next, myfearof necromancy be damned.”

She glanced at the shore and back to me. Her voice lowered. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Though I didn’t think either of us were quite sure what we were apologizing for anymore. Resigned, I set my pack on the table. If she didn’t want to go to shore, I couldn’t force her.

To my surprise, she shouldered the bag. “If you have an idea, I’m willing to try.”

Relief flooded me. “Thank you.”

“It might not change my mind about accepting the lesson.”

I stilled.

“But you’re right, I can’t trust him an inch. We should be prepared.” She stepped closer, extending her hand. “I want to hear your plan.”

Relieved, I readied to shadow-step.

Perhaps I could never convince her that a lesson was a bad idea. Perhaps she was right, and it was a valid path forward. But at the very least, I could ensure she was prepared with every tool I could think of.

Chapter twenty-four

Of Shadow and Light