Page 109 of Psycho Pack

Adiir watches me pace, his expression unreadable behind his scarf. But I know him well enough to see the concern in his dark eyes.

"Are we?" he asks quietly.

"Are we what?" I mutter.

"Suffocating. Arewesuffocating, or are you?"

I shoot him an irritated look, but I know he's right. Instead of arguing, I drop back onto the bench beside him, close enough that our shoulders brush.

"I don't want to be a prince," I whisper, the words barely audible over the gentle splash of the fountains. "I never have. I just... I want to help people. Really help them, not just sit in judgment and issue decrees from on high. Hell, I'm not even next in line to be king. But I wouldn't want that, either."

There something else I want, too.

Something I'll never admit to wanting.

"I know." Adiir's voice is soft, understanding. He's the only one I can be truly honest with, even if there's that one little thing I'll never tell him. "But wanting something doesn't make it possible."

"Why not?" I turn to face him, desperate to make him understand. "Look at what we have here. The finest medical facilities in the known world, centuries of healing knowledge locked away in our archives, techniques that could save countless lives. And what do we do with it? We hoard it. Keep it hidden behind these walls while people suffer and die as the world caves in beyond our walls."

"The laws?—"

"Laws can be changed."

"Not these ones." He catches my wrist as I start to pull away, his grip gentle but firm. "Hamsa, please. I know you want tohelp. It's one of the things I l—" He cuts himself off, clearing his throat. "It's one of the things that makes you who you are. But there are other ways to serve your people."

I stare down at where his fingers circle my wrist. It takes me a moment to find my voice. "What if I can't? What if I'm not meant for this?"

His thumb strokes over my pulse point, sending electricity through my veins. Why is he doing that? He's an alpha. And a noble, at that. Alphas don't touch other alphas unnecessarily.

I would know.

I think about it all the goddamn time.

"You learn how to be," he continues. "You adapt. You find ways to help within the constraints of your position."

"Like you did?"

The words slip out before I can stop them. Adiir goes very still, his grip tightening fractionally before he forces himself to relax.

"That was different," he says quietly.

"Was it?" I twist my wrist in his grip until I can lace our fingers together. "You wanted to be a scholar. To study the old texts, preserve our history. But your family needed you to take your father's place as Commander of the Royal Guard instead."

"And I adapted." His voice is rough. "Like you will."

"But you're not happy."

He's silent for a long moment, staring out at the darkening sky. The first stars are appearing, diamond-bright against deepening indigo.

"Happiness isn't always possible," he says finally. "Sometimes duty has to be enough."

The resignation in his voice breaks something inside me. Without thinking, I reach up and hook my finger in the edge of his scarf, tugging it down. He lets me, though his eyes widen in surprise.

"What if I don't want it to be enough?" I whisper.

His breath catches. "Hamsa?—"

"What if I want more?"