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"Why is your city marked on a death map?" Kael's hand slammed the table between them.
Seraph didn't flinch. She'd learned that in loop nine. "You tell me. It's your fortress that burned it into the floor."
"My fortress doesn't lie." He moved around the table. Each step deliberate. "The map reads intent. Whose intent shows you dead in Ashveil?"
"Maybe yours." She held her ground. Barely. "You've been staring at me like I'm already a corpse for three days."
He stopped. Close enough she could feel the cold rolling off his armor. "Have we met before?"
"You asked me that at the welcome banquet." Her pulse kicked. Too close to the question she couldn't answer. "I said no then."
"You lied then." Not a question. He tilted his head. "I dream about killing you. Every night since you arrived. Twelve different ways. Same room. Same blood on my hands. Same look on your face when you stop breathing."
The air left her lungs. He remembered. Not everything. But enough to be dangerous.
"Sounds like a guilty conscience," she said. Keep it light. Keep him guessing. "Planning to make it thirteen?"
"I don't plan things I've already done." His voice dropped. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong." She met his eyes. Let him see the truth in the lie. "I'm standing right here. Still breathing. Still your bride."
"For how long?" He reached past her. Pulled a knife from the wall sheath she hadn't noticed. Turned it in his hand. Firelight caught the edge. "In the dreams, you always run first. You never fight back. But you—" He gestured with the blade. "You fight. You've been fighting since the betrothal ink dried."
"Maybe your dream girl's smarter than me." She watched the knife. Loop eight flashed. He'd used that exact blade. Third rib. Punctured lung. She'd drowned on her own blood while he watched. "Maybe I should run."
"Too late." He set the knife on the table between them. "I locked the door."
Her stomach dropped. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking." He stepped closer. Crowding her against the map table. The burned map crinkled under her hip. "Varen wants you arrested. He has three guardsmen waiting outside. He thinks you're a spy. He's probably right."
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. "And you?"
"I think you're more than a spy." His hand came up. Stopped an inch from her jaw. "I think you know exactly how you die. I think you've died before. And I think I'm the one who did it."
"You're insane." But her voice cracked. He heard it. His eyes sharpened.
"Prove it." He didn't move his hand. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this is the first time we've had this conversation. Tell me you don't know what I'm about to say next."
She couldn't. Because she did know. She'd heard this exact speech in loop fourteen. Right before he'd called the guards. Right before the execution drum started.
"You can't," he said quietly. "Because it's not."
Her chest tightened. Phoenix heat flickered under her skin. Dangerous. Not now. Not in front of him. "What do you want from me?"
"The truth." His thumb brushed her jawline. Barely contact. Just heat. "How many times have I killed you?"
The question hung between them. She could lie. She'd gotten good at lying. But his eyes said he'd know. He'd see it. Whatever fragment of memory his dreams were feeding him, it was enough.
"Twelve," she whispered. "You've killed me twelve times."
His hand dropped. He stepped back. Put the table between them again. "How."
"I reset." She kept talking. If she stopped she'd lose her nerve. "Every time I die, I wake up three months earlier. The day before I left Ashveil. The day before the betrothal contract was signed. I've lived this three months seventeen times. You killed me in twelve of them."
He stared at her. Silent. Calculating. She could see him running scenarios. Testing her words against whatever his dreams showed him.
"The other five?" he asked.
"Varen. Twice. A sabotaged airship. A poisoned cup. And one time I just—" She stopped. That loop still hurt. "I gave up. I walked off the north tower."
"You killed yourself." He said it flat. Like he was confirming a tactical report.
"I'd already died sixteen times." Her hands shook. She fisted them. "I was tired."
"And now?" He picked up the knife again. Examined it. "Loop seventeen. What's different?"
"You're asking questions instead of calling the guards." She forced herself to breathe. "That's new."
"What else."
She hesitated. Showed him her palm. Let the phoenix fire bloom. Just a small flame. Barely enough to cast shadows. "I'm changing. Every death makes me stronger. And less human. This loop I can burn through iron. Last loop I could barely light a candle."
He watched the flame. Didn't look afraid. Didn't look impressed. Just watched. "How long until you're not human at all?"
"I don't know." She closed her fist. Snuffed the flame. "Maybe this loop. Maybe the next. I don't know what I become after that."
"And the map." He nodded at the burned floor. "Why does it show you dead in Ashveil?"
"Because that's where I am when I reset." She looked at the ash outline of her city. Her bed. Her room. "Every loop starts there. If I die here, I wake up there. The fortress thinks I'm a ghost. Maybe I am."
"Ghosts don't bleed." He set the knife down. Crossed to the door. Her heart stopped. He was calling them. He was done listening. This loop was over.
But he didn't open it. He locked it. Second bolt. The heavy one.
He turned back. "I'm not killing you tonight."
Relief hit so hard she swayed. Caught herself on the table.
"But I'm not letting you leave either," he continued. "Not until I know what you're really here for. Not until I know how to stop dreaming about your blood on my hands."
"I'm here to steal your war plans." The words came out before she could stop them. Truth. Stupid dangerous truth. "Ashveil is starving. The blockade is killing us. I was supposed to take the plans and disappear before the wedding. That was the mission. Every loop."
"Did it ever work?" he asked.
"Twice." She sank into the chair. Exhausted. "Loop four and loop nine. I got the plans. Made it to the airship. Both times Ashveil still fell. The war doesn't end because I steal paper. It ends when someone stops fighting."
"Or when someone dies permanently." He stayed by the door. Distance between them now. Good. She needed distance. "Is that the plan this time? You let me kill you one more time and you don't reset?"
"I don't know how to stay dead." She looked up. Met his eyes. "Believe me. I've tried."
Silence. Heavy enough to ache. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared at her like he was seeing something behind her face.
Then his expression changed. Went distant. His hand shot out. Braced against the doorframe.
"Kael?" She stood. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer. His jaw clenched. Eyes unfocused. She'd seen this before. Loop fifteen. Right before he'd collapsed.
The dream. It was hitting him. Now. Right now.
She crossed to him. Grabbed his arm. "Kael. Stay with me. Don't go under."
"I see you." His voice came out strangled. "On the floor. Blood. So much blood. I'm holding the knife. You're asking me why."
"It's just a dream." She tightened her grip. "I'm right here. Still breathing."
"No." His eyes cleared. Locked on hers. "It's not a dream. It's a memory. You said twelve times. I'm watching number seven. The knife went in here." He touched her ribs. Right side. Third gap. Exact spot. "You stopped talking after four minutes. Stopped breathing after six. I waited for eight because I didn't believe you were gone."
Tears burned. She blinked them back. "I came back."
"You shouldn't have." His hand was still on her ribs. Pressing. Feeling for the wound that wasn't there. "Why do you keep coming back to me?"
"I don't have a choice." She caught his wrist. Pulled his hand away before she broke. "The loop won't let me skip you. Won't let me go around you. Every reset, I'm your bride. Every time."
"Have you tried not being a spy?" he asked.
"Yes. Loop six. I tried to play it straight. Be the perfect bride. Smile and plan the wedding and pretend I didn't know my city was dying." Her voice cracked. "You still killed me. Because Varen still found proof I was from Ashveil intelligence. Because even when I don't spy, I'm still a spy."
He pulled back. Leaned against the door. Slid down until he sat on the floor. Just sat there. Armored war commander looking seventeen and lost.
She slid down beside him. Didn't touch. Just sat. The stone was cold through her dress.
"Ask," she said.
"What?"
"You have one more question. I can see it. Ask."
He turned his head. Looked at her. Really looked. "Have I ever let you live?"
The question gutted her. Because she knew the answer. And he wasn't going to like it.
"Once," she said. "Loop thirteen. You found out what I was. Found the plans in my room. Found the communication crystal. Found everything. But instead of killing me, you locked me in the north tower. Kept me prisoner until the wedding. Married me anyway. Kept me alive as your wife and your captive."
"What happened?" he asked.
"You went to war three weeks after the wedding." She closed her eyes. Saw it again. "Ashveil fell while you were gone. They executed my family as traitors for selling me to the enemy. Sent me the broadcast. You came back to find me burned out. I'd used every drop of phoenix fire trying to break the tower walls and fly home. Burned myself down to ash. You scattered what was left off the north balcony."
He didn't say anything. She didn't expect him to.
"So no," she continued. "Keeping me alive doesn't work either. I still die. Just slower."
"There has to be a way out." He said it quiet. Certain. "There's always a tactical solution. We just haven't found it."
"We?" She opened her eyes. Looked at him. "You believe me?"
"I dream about killing you every night." He met her stare. "Either you're telling the truth or we're both insane. I'd rather be haunted than crazy."
A laugh cracked out of her. Broken. A little hysterical. "That's the worst reason to trust someone I've ever heard."
"It's the only reason I have." He stood. Offered his hand. "Get up. If we're doing this, we're doing it right. I need to see everything. Every loop. Every death. Every variable that changed. We map it. We find the pattern. We break it."
She stared at his hand. Didn't take it. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired of killing you." He said it simple. Like it was obvious. "And because if you're dying for your city seventeen times, the least I can do is help you figure out how to stop."
She took his hand. Let him pull her up. His grip was steady. Warm. Nothing like the hands that had killed her.
"This doesn't mean I'm letting you steal the plans," he added.
"I know." She almost smiled. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to try."
"I know." He didn't let go of her hand. "One more thing."
"What?"
His eyes changed. Went distant again. The dream pulling him. But this time he didn't fight it. He leaned into it. Watching something she couldn't see.
"In the dream. Loop seven. When I killed you." His hand tightened on hers. "Someone was outside the door. Listening. Waiting. I never opened it. Never checked. But they were there. I can see them now."
Her blood went cold. "Who?"
His eyes focused. Locked on hers. And for the first time since she'd met him in any loop, Kael Ironfate looked afraid.
"Varen," he said. "It's always been Varen."