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Idonea’s throat burned. The weight of that truth settled on her chest like a stone. Every memory of Nellith, the warmth of her mother’s voice in her earliest childhood, it all collided with the raw necessity of the act she'd just committed. Her hands shook as she pressed them against her temples, trying to still the storm in her mind.

“I feel…” she said, for she didn’t truly know. She closed her eyes.

Lance gave a soft hiss.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself,” she said, looking up at Lysander.

His jaw flexed, eyes flicking to her lips for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes. “There is nothing to forgive.”

She inched forward, enough to let her forehead brush against his.

Lysander’s hand cradled the back of her neck gently, thumbs brushing over her skin.

Emboldened by the proximity, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss.

Lysander responded immediately, his hand moving to her waist, holding her close. The kiss deepened. Then, they broke apart, breaths mixing, hearts pounding in unison.

Lysander leaned back a fraction, brushing a finger along her jaw. “Are you okay?”

Idonea shook her head, still resting against him, a soft chuckle escaping. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Idonea drew a quiet breath, letting herself pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “I need to see Alcaeus.”

She looked at him properly for the first time since the lightning had struck. The branching dark lines she'd seen on his chest in the Nexis hadn't faded with the crossing. They ran from his collarbone to his left hip in a pattern like frozen lightning, and where the mechanical arm joined his shoulder the brass had transferred the strike into flesh. A burn that was deeper than surface, she could tell by the way he held himself, the slight forward lean that meant his heart was working harder than it should.

"Stop," she said.

"Idonea—"

"I can feel your heartbeat from here. It is wrong."

He didn't argue, and she knelt beside him. Her palm was already slick. She pressed it to the skin above his sternum, directly over the burned branching lines.

She reached through the Current, the way Kitsa had taught her to reach. She found the double-beat where there should've been one, a gap where there should've been none. She worked around it, feeding warmth into the burned tissue, steadying the rhythm.

The branching lines faded to pink. His breathing evened.

When she lifted her hand, he caught her wrist. "You are running out of blood to spend."

"But you know what I must do," she said, and helped him to his feet.

With a final, lingering glance at the shattered relic, Idonea rose, letting Lysander help steady her.

Chapter 40

Though weakened, Idonea wouldn’t wait any longer. She had to save Alcaeus.

She hoped she wasn’t too late.

When they reached the chapel above, the pews were as they had left them. The village beyond the chapel doors was still.

Idonea stood at the threshold.

"Alcaeus first," she said. "Then Lidiya."

But Lysander didn't move towards the door.

She turned and looked at him. He was standing in the centre of the nave. His good hand was at his side. The mechanical arm hung at his other side, dead and blackened, the brass fused in places where the lightning had run through it. He hadn't tried to use it since the strike. His coat hung wrong on him because the shoulder of the brass arm was no longer holding the line of it. He was lopsided in a way he'd not been since she'd met him.