Ice eyes met sky. For the first time since Phobus’ War, Rambaldi felt like . . . somebody loved him. He felt like somebody cared about him. His whole life had been cursed by his family line, from his bastard conception to Ember’s rejection and his resulting broken heart and isolation. He was the last remaining son of a fallen queen and an assassinated king. His brothers and one of his sisters were gone, and of his mother, his younger half-siblings, he had no news . . . though he hadn’t really thought of them. But the world was lonely without his family. He hadn’t been willing to admit to it because it seemed the universe had cursed him for being a son of Irina and Beartooth.
“Do you trust me?” asked Sanshoku. Rambaldi felt that he could break apart right here and now. He so badly wanted to trust this woman, with her beautiful leaves and scales of koi. “I could, possibly,” he murmured in reply. “Would you like me to?”

“So tell me when you’re gonna let me in.”