It’s smart to get the most challenging tasks done first.

Which is why, the morning of Clía’s departure for álainndore, she stood outside Ronan’s door. It took her ten minutes before she worked up the nerve to knock.

She rapped her knuckles against the door three times.

His room was only ten feet from the corner of the hallway. She still had time to dash away and hide before—

He opened the door.

His long hair was tousled, with strands sticking up in every direction. His eyes foggy and tired. Thankfully, he wore a modest shirt and sleep trousers to bed. She didn’t need any more distractions this morning.

“Clía.” The exhaustion in his voice bled into surprise. “What are you doing up?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the bedraggled expression on his face. It was completely unfair that he looked this adorable in his half-asleep state. “I thought it only fair that I get the chance to wake you up at an ungodly hour of the morning.”

“I thought we put training on hold.” He glared at the shadows in the hall. The sun would be rising soon, but not yet. “Breakfast is still a ways away.”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

He stepped aside. Her arm brushed against his as she passed, sending a shock of electricity through her.

“You’ve redecorated.” She held tight to her voice. She had spent so many days as the princess exerting control over herself, wearing the mask, yet in the moment when she needed it the most, her body was trying to betray her. “I must admit, I’m not sure what style this is called.”

Books were sprawled over the floor and bed. There was only a small cleared patch on his mattress where he must have slept last night.

He laughed sheepishly. “I stayed up late doing some research.”

She noted the titles of the books closest to her. “The Collective History of Tinelann. Resources of the Diamhair Mountains. Common Myths and Legends. Nice variety.”

“I got a little sidetracked after letting myself think too much. We think we understand Tinelann’s motives, but—do you remember that conversation we had, months ago, about the Gifts of the Treibh Anam?

” He paused, and she watched him consider his next words.

“I felt something, when I fought with your sword. It was different. Powerful.”

She’d almost forgotten that she had given him Camhaoir.

Her memories of the battle were rushed and hazy, a collection of only the direst moments.

Ronan nodded to where the hilt of her blade hung from her belt—ever since the battle, she felt better having it with her.

She freed the sword from its scabbard, handing it to him to look over.

“Someone came at me during battle,” he explained. “I was distracted, and they would have killed me. Then there was this rush. And this light. I don’t—I can’t describe it or even understand it. But we were right, weren’t we?”

“Ríoghain’s Jewel,” she whispered, nodding.

His eyes lit up. “Something like this could help if this war continues.”

“Something like this could change the course of history,” she said.

He lifted Camhaoir, and the candlelight reflected off the blessed gem in the hilt.

Ronan and Clía were doused in mirrored gold flame.

“I don’t think it was coincidence that you stumbled upon the crystal.

Tinelann had been searching those mountains long before we arrived.

What if the reason they didn’t discover the jewel was because Ríoghain didn’t want them to find it? ”

Clía’s eyes widened.

“Ríoghain took the stone away from High King Mael to prevent him from conquering Inismian. Maybe they let you find it for the same reason.”

“And they wanted me to?” Clía was still learning how to hold her sword when she entered that cave.

There was a glimmer in Ronan’s eyes. “Maybe Ríoghain saw the same potential in you that I did.”

The compliment sent a rush of warmth through Clía, but she tried to stay focused. “Do you think the other lost gifts are hidden as well?”

Tadhg’s magic harp and Orlaith’s net hadn’t been seen in decades, if not longer. Based on the myths, they should be far less dangerous than Ríoghain’s Jewel, but a treasure of the gods was still an item of immense power.

“I’m not sure. All I know is that this crystal needs to be protected. No one else can find out. If it falls into the wrong hands, if even rumors of such a power spread . . . We don’t need more causes for war.” By the grim set of his brow, she knew they both understood the dangers.

Keeping secrets was no challenge for her. The words she needed to say still clawed for purchase in her throat.

She looked around his room, scanning the chaos. “Where’s your cloak?”

He sent her a curious look, pulling it out from under another pile of books. She took it from him, her hands brushing against him as she draped it over his shoulders.

“It’s a little warm in here for this,” he said, but he went still as she took the pin out of her pocket. “Is that . . . ?”

She tugged on the edges of his cloak, placing them properly. “It is. Captain Ronan ó Faoláin, you have officially completed your Caisleán Cósta training.”

He lifted his chin, staring straight across the room as she pinned the gold cloak pin in place.

She watched his chest rise with a big breath. “You deserve this. More than anyone else I know. You fought and bled for your kingdom, for Inismian. You rose to every challenge and proved yourself a warrior worthy of Caisleán. A true curadh.”

When his gaze returned to her, it was with an intensity she couldn’t handle. She adjusted the pin.

“Countless people wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for you. Our kingdoms would be under even greater threat.” Unspoken words formed a lump in her throat. There was more she wanted to say—had to say, but she didn’t know where to begin. “Inismian owes you it’s gratitude. I owe you my gratitude.”

He gently took her wrist.

“Congratulations,” she whispered.

“Clíodhna—”

“I’m returning to álainndore.” The words tumbled out unceremoniously, and she couldn’t take them back.

He paused for a moment. Took a deep breath. “You mean now. Not in a few days.”

Clía nodded. For a second, she thought she saw his face drop. “I guess I can’t ask you to stay longer.”

“I need to be with my people.” Her voice was shallow and frail. She gave up hope of trying to fix it. This was Ronan. He knew her better than anyone, and if she were to be her true self in front of anyone, it was him. “If this war continues, I could lose so much. They could lose so much.”

“I understand. I wish we weren’t torn between these choices, but I know you have to prioritize your kingdom.” For a moment, he looked away, jaw tight as he struggled with something. When he turned back, she could see a decision in his eyes. He took a step closer to her. “I’ll miss you.”

Clía let her hand fall and wrap around his. His eyes followed the movement, as if tracing over the image of their fingers intertwined. Her heart yearned to ask him—to beg him to come with her, but her fear kept her trapped. “I’ll miss you too.”

Amber eyes met hers and heat lit up the air around them. “I’m guessing you might not find much time to visit Scáilca in between all your war planning.” His head tilted ever closer toward hers.

“I’m not sure.” She breathed in the shrinking space between their lips.

“Then, if this is the end, let us enjoy this moment.”

They met in a slow cascade of desire and longing.

Everything faded into shadows except the feel of his skin on hers, and their tangled breath mingling between kisses.

Their embrace was spring warmth melting away cold snow.

It was hopeful and sweet, but desperate.

As if daring the world to try to tear them apart.

The world didn’t have to do it. Clía pulled back, chest heaving.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke into the silence between their breaths.

His forehead came down to rest against hers.

“Please tell me you’re not apologizing for what just happened.” His hoarse voice only made her want to lean in once more.

Clía shook her head. “No. Never for that. I’m only sorry that I ever pushed you away. I’m sorry that I let my fears rule me. That I kept you at arm’s length when I really wanted you right here.” Her hand rested against his neck to emphasize her point.

He answered with a lingering kiss on her cheek. Then her jaw. Then her lips.

It was chaste, less than a second, but her heart pounded as if she’d run a mile.

“We already talked about this. There is nothing to forgive.” His voice was soft as the air between them.

“I never believed what people said about me as a child.

About being gods-blessed. Until you came into my life.

You set my world aflame, and I have never desired so desperately to be burned.

With every sunrise, I fell in love with you again.

Although, yes, I never want you to push me away again.

I want to stand by your side as you bring change to our kingdoms.

“I know you’re leaving—and I understand if my dream isn’t shared—but if you will be gone from my life after today, I need you to know how deeply I admire you. That I will always love you, even if it’s from afar.”

A seed of hope took root in her lungs, catching her breath.

“What if we didn’t have to be separated?”

Ronan stepped back to look at her. “What do you mean?”

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