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She inhaled, steadying herself. The Current rose around her thoughts, familiar but skittish. Resonance magic required alignment. Still, she tried.

She reached inward. The Current shivered, resisting at first, then touched the edges of the crystal’s aura. Beneath her fingertips, the daemon-tainted energy shuddered like a plucked wire, discordant and cold. It made the Current recoil, but she forced herself to stay with it.

Remember the shape, Kitsa had told her. Not the power, its imprint.

Idonea sought that echo now: the peculiar twist daemon energy left in the Current, like gravity bending the wrong way. Once she found the threads, she tuned her resonance to the crystal.

The effort punched straight through her chest.

Her knees went soft. A wave of cold drained her strength, leaving her swaying as the crystal vibrated under her hand.

She tied the resonance knot firmly, then severed the connection. The world tilted.

Lysander’s arms were around her before she could fall, one hand anchoring at her back, the other steadying her shoulder. His grip was firm.

“It’s done,” she said.

Their eyes met, breath still entangled. He didn’t let go.

His gaze flicked to her mouth, lingering, breath warm against her cheek. “We … should set it up,” he said, though he didn’t move an inch.

“We should.” Her breath hitched. Her eyes dipped briefly to his lips before rising back to his gaze.

“Idonea…” Her name scraped out of him.

He leaned in, giving her time to refuse.

She didn’t.

Her fingers curled into his coat, pulling him closer without meaning to.

The moment their lips met, everything unravelled.

Their noses bumped, and her glasses pressed crookedly into the bridge of her nose, except that she didn't push them straight, and his breath had caught on hers in the same instant hers did, so that neither of them was breathing properly anymore, only pressing closer like stopping would hurt worse.

But when he kissed her, it was as if he’d been waiting forever. His mouth claimed hers with a fierce, aching need, lips urgent, trembling. She answered in kind, clutching fistfuls of fabric at his waist, dragging him closer like she’d fall apart otherwise.

He made a low sound and deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse. Their teeth grazed, breaths clashing, the world narrowing to heat and pressure and the dizzying shock of finally.

She smelled cold rain and ash. The memory of hands returned, tracing her skin without fear, without consequence. Jovana’s laugh rose unbidden, soft and incredulous, as if she were amused by Idonea’s foolishness.

Still alive, the memory said. Even now.

They broke apart with a stagger of breath. A shaky laugh caught in her throat.

His forehead rested against hers, both still panting. Her lips tingled, her body thrumming with heat.

He pulled back. His eyes went to her lips, lingered, slid down to her throat. Then he looked at the floor instead.

Lysander stepped back so abruptly her fingers slipped from his coat.

“I—” His voice cracked. He cleared it, but it didn’t help. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Her heart clenched. “Lysander—”

“No.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Idonea, I shouldn’t—”

“You kissed me,” she said.