Virian woke to a tickling sensation near his belly button. One eye half open, he was greeted by a scene he had never thought to see in a million years. Still asleep, Ivy nuzzled her head further into the shallow divot between his chest and shoulder, her long black hair shifting and tickling his stomach. Her broken arm lay draped across his torso, sling discarded and thrown against the wall at some point last night. One of her legs wrapped around both of his, every inch of her bare skin against his, setting his nerves alight. Was this real? Had last night actually happened? He closed his eye and this time opened both. She was still there. He wasn’t dreaming.

His gaze wandered along her body—uncovered due to the heat of the cabin—stopping at various…points of interest, but ultimately ending at the angry purple bruise dominating her right arm. He still could not believe someone so deadly, so ruthless, came in such a delicate, small package. Sleeping peacefully against him like this, he could not think of her as anything other than adorable. And last night? Falling against his door and smiling up at him like that? What was he supposed to do against someone so cute?

For a moment—a night—she had let him forget about Atrican, about Cammy, and just be happy. They had known each other around a decade now, and though their meetings were few and he still had much to learn about her, he wasn’t sure he could deny it any longer. He was hopelessly in love with her. But how would she feel if he told her that? Was last night simply a drunken romp? Would she wake up with a smile or regret? Maybe she’d drive her dagger through his chest the moment she stirred.

He would have to find out eventually, but for now, he was content to lay back and close his eyes, imagining a life where a demon paladin wasn’t chasing them. Ivy mumbled something unintelligible, latching tighter onto him, and he couldn’t help but smile wider than he had in over a year. No. Perhaps last night was the first time since she had left that he had really smiled at all.

Maybe an hour or so later, she began to stir, and Virian was forced out of his dreamy half-slumber. A groan escaped her soft, pink lips, and she raised her head from his body. Her eyelids fluttered open, meeting his stare. She blinked several times, her gaze flicking to his bare chest and back to his face. Eventually, she fell back against him and moaned.

“So, it wasn’t a dream,” she said, “I really did come here.” Well, she hadn’t reached for any sharp objects yet. In fact, she hugged against him tighter. “You’re really here, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, angling the arm she was lying on to caress the top of her head.

“Mmmm.” The noise was more like a purr than anything else. It only widened his grin. She turned her head so that her chin rested on him instead of her cheek and looked down at him. “Virian, this wasn’t a mistake, was it?”

Uh oh. He stopped stroking her hair and stared deep into her emerald eyes.

“I didn’t think it was. Ivy, I l—”

“Good,” she smiled and rested back against him. “I didn’t think so either.”

Ugh. He had to restrain himself from devouring her all over again. Every instinct in him raged to hold her, squeeze her, lock her away, and keep her safe. It was ridiculous knowing who she was, yet it was all that he could think of right now.

A few moments later she rolled off him onto her back and immediately he missed her warmth. She groaned a third time, wincing as she raised her injured arm to touch her forehead.

“What did you do to me?” she asked.

The swaying of the boat caused their discarded bottle of wine to roll along the cabin floor, clinking against the far door.

“I think you’re responsible for the hangover,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Yeah?” she half sat up. “And what about the soreness I feel elsewhere? Who’s to blame for that?” Virian’s face heated, memories of the previous night flooding through his head. His appetite for her had been somewhat…untamed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Do you…uhm, need anything?” he asked.

“A drink.”

“Right. Of course.”

He rolled out of the bed, digging through discarded garments littering the floor until he found a suitable pair of trousers to throw on. A blood-stained tunic came next, but it was the best he could find in a hurry. When he poked his head out of the hole at the top, Ivy was still sitting on the bed, watching him with a wry smile on her face.

She was so lovely, his heart soared knowing she could look at him with such obvious affection in her expression. It took him a moment to respond.

“What?” he asked.

“Relax, Virian,” she said, “you don’t have to wait on me. I know you want to check on your sister.” He had almost forgotten all about Cammy. It was difficult for his mind to work at all when a naked Ivy was smiling up at him from his bed. He felt terrible for admitting it, but it was the truth. “Go see her. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, “I just—”

“I know. You’re sweet. But don’t worry about me. It was selfish even coming here. She needs you more than me. We can both agree on that, yeah?” Selfish? That…wasn’t how he saw it. There was a lot to unpack there, but she gave him no chance. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

She rubbed her purpled arm with her healthy one, wincing again, and Virian almost lost his resolve. But she was right. He went for the door, only to stop with his hand on the handle. Ivy threw a blanket around herself and smiled.

“Go.”

“Just one thing,” he said.

“Sure.”

“What made you change your mind?” he asked. “About us, I mean. You were…so against it before.”

Ivy sighed, her smile dying.

“You’re a good person, Virian. Maybe I thought you’d rub off on me.” He narrowed his gaze at her, giving her a look, but she shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “Get out of here.”

He did as instructed, but just before he closed the door on the other side, he peaked his head in one last time. First, to get one more look at her. And second…

“Drink water,” he said, “not wine.”

“Okay, mom.”

He closed the door almost certain he’d find her with a new bottle the next time he saw her. Shaking his head, he eyed the room across the hall with dread. Only a few feet of wooden planks separated his happiness and sorrow.

One foot in front of the other. Maybe today would be the one where things turned around. So far, Camellia only seemed to worsen. He grabbed the handle and pushed inside. The atmosphere felt heavier within, the heat more feverish. Merideth, the healer, sat fast asleep in a sturdy chair propped up against the corner of the small quarters. Virian had insisted they used his larger cabin but could not convince the woman to “accept a concession from royalty.” No matter that Cammy was also royalty herself.

He made his way to Camellia’s bedside, frowning down at the dark-brown stained sheets. They couldn’t even get clean bedding while at sea. Though blessedly asleep as well, her expression still held pain, sweat matting her hair against her forehead. He took a clean washcloth from the nightstand built into the wall of the hull and dabbed at her forehead and cheeks. She was so pale as though life had already left her.

A bump in the sea jolted the ship upward, and Merideth bounced out of her chair with a yelp, landing on her hands and knees. Virian managed to steady himself against the bed, also catching his sister from falling to the hardwood floor.

Once he was sure his sister was secure, he offered the healer a greeting, “Hello, Merideth.”

She squeaked out a little noise again, quickly getting to her feet and brushing herself off.

“Your Highness!” she said, “I apologize. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He held out a hand.

“It’s quite alright. And I thought I told you to drop the title. Please.”

“Of course…Prince Virian.”

Sighing, he looked back down at Cammy.

“Has there been any improvement?” he asked.

The woman stepped up to the other side of the bed, grabbing one of Cammy’s wrists in one hand, placing her thumb over the inside of the soft flesh where the arm meets the palm. They were silent for a minute or two before she spoke again.

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

“Will she ever recover?”

“I’ve done everything I can, prince. I fear losing so much blood before she reached me took so much from her. And the hunter’s weapon…the damage done. Her weakened body cannot repair itself fast enough. All we can do is wait.”

“Wait for her to die, you mean.” Merideth averted her eyes downward, failing to contradict him. “Will it be painful?”

She nodded. “I’ve given her something to sleep, but yes. Very.”

His vision started to cloud, and he covered his eyes with a hand.

“What can we do?”

“I—”

A gentle knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Virian said.

The door swung inward, Ivy stepping inside. Immediately he frowned at the wine bottle cradled in her slinged arm, but his expression didn’t last. She wore the same thing as last night: a simple pair of dark breeches and a black tunic. Save for the sling holding her broken arm, it was an assassin’s outfit, yet still, he grinned seeing her in it. Her hair sat nestled into a bun at the back of her head, and she offered Virian a weak smile when she saw him. It was impossible not to be drawn in by her.

Or maybe it was? Merideth had gone as white as Camellia at the sight of Ivy entering. He raised an eyebrow at his lovely assassin. What did she do to Merideth? Ivy rolled her eyes and fixed the healer with a glare that could freeze molten stone. It was only then that he remembered not everyone—or perhaps no one—saw her as he did.

Only he had rescued the scared little witch running from her fate. Seen her silly grin the first time she had tried Cornarian fruit wine. He remembered her combined embarrassment and joy as she ranted about her ridiculous family of couches. These days he saw less and less of that girl. But he still caught glimpses of Ivy’s gentler side. Just this morning he had rushed to get her a pitcher of water, and she had been more concerned about Cammy than he was. Yet she had called him the good person. It was both frustrating and endearing that no one else saw or cared to look for those parts of her.

“M-miss Ivy?” Merideth asked. “Did…you, need…something?” She seemed to shrink away with every word, backing further into the corner of the room, even when there was nowhere left to go. “Is your…arm, okay?”

“It hurts,” Ivy said, “can you fix that?”

“It should be lessening as it starts to heal,” she said, some confidence returning in response to a medical question, “you are avoiding any strenuous activity, yes?”

Virian cleared his throat involuntarily, and Ivy’s eyes flicked to Virian for just an instant before returning to Merideth. Her feet shuffled, and her cheeks turned a faint shade of red.

“…Uh, yeah. Mostly,” Ivy said.

“Then it should start to fade completely in just a few days or so. Provided you stop using it to carry wine bottles.”

Yes. Exactly. He shot Ivy a scolding look.

“Thanks.” Ivy rubbed her forehead with her uninjured hand, ignoring Virian. “And uh…about yesterday, I was…upset. I didn’t mean to scare you. Well, I did. But it was an asshole move, okay? I’m sorry.”

“So, it’s not true, then?” Merideth asked. Virian had no idea what they were referring to, but Ivy stood silent, not affirming the healer’s words. “Miss Ivy?”

“It…was a half-truth.”

“I don’t underst—”

“Believe what you want. I’m screwed up I guess, but I’m not dangerous.” She paused, even Virian gave her a questioning glance. “Okay. I am violent. And volatile. But you’re fine. I have no reason to hurt you, yeah? I don’t know. I’m trying here. Just take the apology.”

Merideth just stood in place, unsure of what to say or do. Her eyes traveled from Ivy to Virian for reassurance.

“We’ve all been through a lot,” he said, “tensions have been high. But I promise you Ivy is not a threat to anyone under my rule.” Ivy made a sound in her throat like she didn’t quite agree, but it was at least true for Merideth, who nodded. “Now, if you don’t mind, could you give us a minute, Merideth?”

“Of course, Prince Virian,” she said, and moved to the door, taking as wide a path as possible around Ivy, who stood perfectly still.

Once they were alone, she stepped to where Merideth had been before and looked down at Cammy. Her face tightened, expression hardening.

“How is she?” Ivy asked.

“…Cammy’s dying.”

Her gaze shot up to Virian.

“I…I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Yes, there was. But he hated himself for thinking it. Despised, really. It came to him when he watched her interact with Merideth. Ivy was undoubtedly a killer. Her true nature was the only thing that could have scared the healer like that. And what Virian needed now, was a killer.

He stared at her for a time—maybe ten seconds, but it felt like hours. She tilted her head at him, and he felt like she was trying to pull from his mind what he could not bring himself to ask. It was too horrible, yet it needed to be done. His eyes welled with tears not only for Cammy, but Ivy. And himself.

“Virian?” she asked. He averted his eyes finally, staring down at his sister. The silence lasted another lifetime. “Virian what is going on?” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t ask, but he knew she would understand. Eventually, she would. “You—”

He looked up again and saw her brows furrowed, staring at him with that same cold intensity that she had shown the healer. He couldn’t find any of the sympathy that had been there a moment ago.

“You had better not be thinking what I think you are,” she said.

Tears fell down his cheeks. She would hate him. Again. This time for good.

“She’s in constant pain,” he said.

“Virian, no!” Her wine clattered to the floor. “NO! Have you lost your mind?!”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“How can you ask this of me? A few days ago, you begged me to save her!”

“This is saving her, in a way.”

Ivy’s green eyes blazed with a ferocity he had never seen. Not even that night in Atrican when she had slaughtered the church.

“You are unbelievable! I do this and you will never look at me the same. And I you. I will always be the woman who stabbed a knife through your sister’s heart. And to me, you’ll be the one who guilted me into doing it! Is that what you want for us?”

“A year ago,” Virian said, continuing to curse himself with every word, “you were furious with me because I could not accept who you were. Now, I’m just asking you to be that person.”

Her hand went to the hilt of the dagger at her hip, trembling.

“This is not ‘embracing my inner self’! It’s murdering your sister! A fellow witch! Who, I admit, I didn’t spend a lot of time with, but seemed like a kind person. I can’t do this!”

“You can,” he said, “we both know you can.”

Her anger disappeared, head drooping to look at the floor. Virian knew then that he had made a terrible mistake. He understood from the start that this would destroy whatever had rekindled between them, but he always expected that she would give in. Now, he feared he had ruined everything for nothing.

Instead of the rage he had been prepared to weather, tiny droplets of water began to patter against the floorboards.

“Is that how you see me?” she asked. He couldn’t answer. “A heartless assassin? Like everyone else, you just call on me when you need something cleaned up that no one else can stomach. Then you expect to use me in your bed afterward.” He tried to utter a single word of denial, but his lips were frozen. That wasn’t it. Not at all. “Fuck you, Virian.” She ripped her dagger free of its sheath and flung it at his head without looking. It embedded itself into the wall just a few inches from his face. “Kill your sister yourself. I can’t believe I slept with you again. I called you a good person.”

She shook her head, and then disappeared, leaving her dagger lodged in the wall up to the hilt. A scream of loss and sorrow built up deep in his chest, ready to be let loose, but a tiny voice stopped him.

“Vivi?”

Virian froze. His eyes bulged as he turned his attention to Cammy, awake.

“How long…have you been up?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Long…enough,” pain erupted in her features, “I understand. And I agree. With…you.”

He let out the scream.