Princess Elara Valdis had killed two guards that morning and still could not say three words to the man walking beside her. His name was Tomas Kyriel, a fae soldier in black armor etched with silver chains. He had been hired to murder her. He held his hand at her back instead, guiding her over the frozen road, and she wanted to tell him she loved him. She had wanted to tell him for days. Behind them stumbled her uncle, wrists bound, his fat face red with cold. Lord Reginald Vance had ordered her death when she found his theft in the treasury. Now he was their prisoner. They were dragging him to the king, because he alone held the curse that bound Tomas to her. Keep him alive, and Tomas might one day go free. The road narrowed between broken ice. Elara's boots slipped. Tomas caught her arm without a word. His grip was sure. His eyes were kind. She thought of every quiet moment she had waited for, and how none of them had come. A white fox stepped onto the road ahead. Its fur glowed with pale marks shaped like hearts. Elara knew it. This same fox had touched them both at the estate. After that, Tomas had stopped trying to leave her side. The fox sat and watched her. It did not run. "We should move," Tomas said. Short. Final. He never wasted words. "Wait." Elara turned to him. Her heart slammed. The road was still dangerous. Her uncle still glared. Nothing was calm. Nothing would ever be calm. "If I wait for the right moment, I'll die with it unsaid." He frowned. "Elara." "I love you." The words came out plain and fast. "You were sent to kill me. You didn't. You stayed when the curse stopped forcing you. I don't care that it makes no sense. I love you." Tomas went still. The fox's marks brightened. For a long moment he said nothing, and she felt the cold crawl into her chest. Then he stepped closer. He touched her face with one gloved hand. "I chose you at the estate," he said. "I've known since. I just didn't have the word for it." He paused. "You're it." Elara laughed, shaky and bright. The fox rose and trotted off into the ice, its work done. Behind them, her uncle spat into the snow. "Touching," he said. "You think love breaks my curse? Only I can break it. And I'd sooner die first." Elara's smile died. She looked at Tomas. The rule sat heavy between them. If the holder of the binding died, the curse became permanent. Her uncle knew it now. He had just found the one weapon he had left. He smiled through his split lip. "Kill me," he said, "and you keep him chained forever."