Dying was easy. Living was so much harder—that was the most important lesson Altan had ever taught her.
She glanced down at Kitay.
He was awake, his face set in resolve. He gave her a grim nod.
That was all she had to see. That was permission.
She couldn’t release him. Neither of them knew how. But she knew, as clearly as if he’d said it out loud, that he intended to follow her to the end.
Their fates were tied, weighed down by the same culpability.