I’m scarred, inside and out, but I’m also stronger. I’ve learned how to be a warrior. I’ve learned that hope rises out of the ashes if I let it.

And I’ve learned that loving myself and others takes more strength than any sword fight. Especially if the person you’re trying to love is a boy stubbornly determined to invent a new steam-operated system of transit that will connect the city-states to one another now that we can safely outfit the trains with a sonic pulse that will keep away any lingering tanniyn.

“It’s dinnertime,” I say as I enter the warehouse and push past the pile of junk—Logan would call it scrap or parts or nectar of the gods—and find him standing inside the framework for a boxcar that is four times the size of a wagon. Blueprints are stacked neatly on a table to the left, and schematics for the track are drawn on the wall to the right.

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he says without looking at me.

I roll my eyes. “That’s what you said about lunch. Five hours ago. And yet . . . here you are.”

“I wonder if we need an ultrasonic signal on each individual car or just on the engine?” He gazes into space.

“I wonder if you’re ever going to come out of your fancy Lankenshire warehouse and eat the meal I’m pretty sure I didn’t burn. Marcus made honey cakes for dessert. Nola and Quinn are going to come over tonight to sit with him so we can have some time alone. Or maybe because they want time alone. Quinn won’t tell me anything, of course, but I think he really likes her. So, time alone . . . what do you think we should—”

“I’ve got it!” He snaps his fingers and looks around wildly before snatching a piece of chalk from the floor and climbing out of the framework so he can draw on the wall. “The trains don’t need to carry the signals. We can post them along the tracks themselves.”

“I’m going to post you along the track if you don’t leave this alone for a few hours and come enjoy the sunset with me. We have things to talk about. The triumvirate is going to send me on my first courier mission next week. To Brooksworth. Of course, I have to take Cassidy I-Know-Everything Vaughn with me as my mentor, but still . . . Brooksworth!”

His hand flies across the flat gray wall as he draws yet another schematic, mumbling under his breath the way Marcus does when he’s measuring ingredients for a new recipe he’s experimenting with.

I guess if dinner and a romantic view of the sunset are going to happen tonight, I’ll have to do something drastic.

“Think of it, Rachel!” He pushes chalk-stained fingers through his hair as he gazes at his drawing. “We could visit any city-state in a matter of days. Faster than using horses, because we wouldn’t have to stop and—hey.”

I slide my arms around his waist from behind and run my hand up his chest until I can feel his heartbeat quickening beneath my palm. Standing on tiptoes, I press a kiss beneath his ear.

The chalk falls from his fingers and hits the floor.

“Tell me more,” I say softly, my breath feathering against his skin.

“About what?” He sounds dazed.

My smile is smug as I step around to face him. “All the reasons why you can’t eat dinner with me and take a walk in the sunset and maybe kiss me for a while.”

He wraps his arms around me and hauls me against his chest. “There’s nothing keeping me from any of that. Especially the kissing.”

“I told you that Quinn and Nola are going to sit with Marcus tonight so we can have hours to ourselves.”

He grins. “I think Quinn likes her.”

I roll my eyes. “I told you that, too. And then I told you that the triumvirate approved my courier-in-training status, and I get to go to Brooksworth next week with Cassidy. I think they’re sending Willow as one of our military escorts, though how she and Cassidy will survive a trip together without killing each other is anybody’s guess.”

His grin widens. “I’m proud of you.”

“Are you sure? Because you said something about tracks. Ultrasonic pulses. Trains—”

“I was a fool.” He kisses me and warmth spreads through me, lingering on my skin like sunshine. When he lifts his head, he says, “I love you more than trains, you know.”

I laugh. “I know. But you have been pretty distracted since we moved into Lankenshire permanently.”

He runs a hand up my neck and into my hair. Tipping my head back, he says, “Let me make that up to you.”

His mouth hovers over mine for a moment, and then he’s kissing me, and I’m holding on to him, and I don’t know where he ends and I begin.

“I love you,” he says.

I smile at the boy who thinks I’m beautiful, scars and all. Who fought to find me when I was lost and refused to let me disappear into my silence.

At the boy who is mine to have, to hold, and to keep on his toes.

“I love you, too,” I say. “Always.”