He opened his mouth, and words came out in a rush: “Go with me, as soon as the sun rises. Far away from this island. We’ll start over, be only what we make ourselves, without pasts, together.”
For a long moment, Elia was silent and still. Then she said, “But I am a piece of Innis Lear, and so are you.”
“It’s broken,” he murmured. “Innis Lear. And we are broken, too. But if we left, maybe we could fix each other.” Ban touched the ends of her hair, pulling the curls out and releasing them to bounce back.
She pressed her face against his shoulder; he felt tears. She said, “We have to fix it all.”
“Why? Why us?”
Elia’s voice sharpened. “Do you remember that beetle you dug out from under the stone in the Summer Seat meadow? It was iridescent green, with rainbows of blue and yellow? You put it on my finger like an emerald ring.”
He nodded, voice stuck in his throat.
“I loved that silly bug. At first, after you were taken away, I searched for them on my own. I imagined, sometimes, when looking at the stars with my father, that the stars themselves were tiny bright beetles, crawling across the sky. The heavens were the same as the island mud, and all those stars my father worshipped were bugs like the one you put on my finger.”
Ban turned under her arm until he lay on his back as she leaned over him. Firelight gilded her hair. Her eyes were deep enough to dive into. She was frowning, her brow furrowed by sorrow.
The silence dragged: something was wrong. He didn’t want to ask; Ban wanted to exist here without the Fox, without questions and plotting, without everything he’d been made to be.
Her thumb stroked his collarbone.
“Elia?” he whispered.
The words tumbled out of her, then, hard and fast: “I know Morimaros sent you here, on his behalf. I know you’ve been an Aremore spy, and you intended to get the iron for Aremoria.”
Shock silenced him, and behind it a wave of shame. Elia knew. But beyond that, Mars had told her: it was the only way for her to know. What else had they shared?
Ban opened his mouth, and nothing came out. The two of them in this bed, having been together like this, was another betrayal of that noble Aremore king. But Ban had loved Elia first.
“I…” Ban’s voice was hoarse. He swallowed, reaching for some explanation that would keep her in his arms. “I … I needed Aremoria, and I needed his—his respect. I had none of that here, and even you … even you let me go. Being the Fox meant something, and I was recognized for it. Not as a bastard, but a soldier. A friend, even.”
“I respected you. I needed you.”
But an old hurt welled up Ban’s throat and found its way out of his mouth. “You didn’t write to me,” he whispered like a child. “You never wrote to me, in all my time in Aremoria. I thought you loved me, but you let me go. Because your father told you to!”
“I shouldn’t have. I am sorry, Ban. I did not know how alone you were. How … abandoned. No wonder you gave yourself to Morimaros, abandoning Innis Lear in turn.”
“I didn’t do it to abandon Innis Lear! I did it for Morimaros. Because he asked me, and because he treated me like I was worth asking.”
Elia frowned, and Ban saw the struggle as she fought to hold his gaze. She, too, must be thinking of Mars now, while naked and sticky from sharing this bed with Ban. He desperately wanted to ask what was between the two of them, if they’d made promises.
Finally, Elia sighed softly. “I know Morimaros is good, Ban. Better than Connley, better than my father. But he’s still the king of Aremoria. He wants…” Elia looked away again. “He wants to marry me, too, and I believe he has not lied about what he wants.”
“Innis Lear. And you.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll make himself the king of Innis Lear, if you marry him. Even if he swears not to lay siege, your sisters will take it as an act of war—Regan at least, who I’ve spent these past weeks with. And everyone knows Gaela looks for reasons to fight.”
“So what should I do, Ban? Will my sisters hear me? They are poisoned with hate. I’ve tried telling myself they will listen, they have to, but with you here, now, like this … Ban. I am so very afraid that they will refuse me, drive me away again. Or worse!” Tears washed her eyes. “And what of Innis Lear? It is crumbling!”
“Regan will listen to me. I can protect you,” he whispered, desperately.
Elia drew away, even as he held her naked in his arms. “Like you protected Rory?” she asked, carefully.
Ban flung himself out of the bed. He paced away, unsure where to put his hands, scuffing his bare feet on the dusty earthen floor.
Behind him, silence.
Hugging himself, he faced Elia again. She’d sat against the wall, legs drawn up under the quilt. Ban said, suddenly, hopelessly, “I think my father is dead.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Father was allying himself with you—with an invading force. With Morimaros. I told Connley and Regan. And I left him there, between them; they were in a killing mood.”
“Oh, Ban.”
“I’m not sorry. He never once put me first. My father did not defend me, and if he ever loved me it was less than he loved Lear, or himself, or those fucking stars.”
“But you—”
“Errigal betrayed your sister, his queen, no matter why, or how, Elia,” Ban said ferociously. “He pretended to be loyal to Regan and Connley, then went behind their backs to treat with Aremoria. He is a traitor.”
“Done in by the same.”
“I’m no traitor to you,” he lied.
Elia scoffed, and wiped a tear off her cheek with a sharp flick of her hand.
“I
