When they had narrowly managed their retreat from Nascere, when this plan had been discussed, John had realized exactly what he was going to be giving up. The sea had returned him. Flint had delivered him from red coats and given him back to Madi. If their attack had gone differently, then the whole of this war could have been fought together.

But their defeat changes everything. It changes how they can proceed, if they want to prevail in their goals. The soft clutch of her hand and the sweetness of her mouth, John will have to give that up for the present. His fingers tighten on her hip, and he exhales hard as the kiss breaks.

"I will," John promises. Has he ever promised such a thing before and meant it? "Just promise me that you..."

What? What promise can he extract? Madi will do what she must. John knows that. He trails off, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against hers. Many things live, unspoken, in that unfinished sentence.