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All around, beneath the veneer of courtesy, alliances were being formed and broken, loyalties shifting. They might’ve been in trouble if not for Sarina. Even after so many centuries away from court life, she exerted complete and total command of the room.

People flocked to her. Those milling about stopped to listen as she held court. This was her battleground. She likely already knew the names of every person in attendance, theseating arrangements, the menu, the entertainment, before ever stepping foot inside.

Now, she levied that knowledge to charm everyone around her.

Sir, with all due respect, your estate’s vineyards could only dream of producing a wine with the complexity and depth found in your character.

Oh, but my lord, if we were all judged by our ancestors’ deeds, I dare say we’d be a room full of saints and sinners, with little between!

She made each one feel seen. Heard.Appreciated. She tickled their vanity, and they responded with delighted preening.

They let their guard down. That was the moment she struck.

Some say there are gatherings in the night, where loyalty to my brother is questioned. It’s strange, though, how names never seem to surface. One does wonder who attends such meetings.

And then the names spilled forth. Rumors. Whispers. She collected them all.

Laughter rippled across the table, blending with the muted symphony of cutlery and the soft pop of a cork being pulled from a bottle of wine. The rustling of fabric, the creaking of wood as people adjusted in their seats, the delicate clinking of silverware against porcelain, the hiss of the firelamps rising over the incessant buzz of aether running through the walls, even the shivering of leaves from all the many trees caging them in from all sides—it all served as a backdrop for the subtle, chaotic thrumof a hundred different hearts all beating at once as a hundred sets of lungs scraped air in and out.

Normally, Skye could filter the clamor, but tonight, it pressed against him like a closing fist. It took effort to pick apart the noise—one by one, dragging each grating, jarring sound from the mess, like prying glass from a wound.

Eventually, the worst of it dulled. Not gone, not quiet, but pushed just far enough to breathe.

He lifted a forkful of greens to his mouth. He was starving—even more so than usual. Not surprising considering the strain he’d put his body through. He ate quickly, efficiently, with just enough civility to avoid raised eyebrows. “Hmm,” he said to the woman beside him, still yammering on. She was one of the frequencies he’d removed. He knew her. They never ran in the same circles but sometimes came close enough to wave.

She stank of roses. His eyes watered from the overwhelming amount of perfume she’d doused herself in as she leaned in closer, her words a never-ending stream of flattery and intrigue.

She spoke of alliances, of her family’s connections—offavorsshe could bestow while her lashes, tipped with red and unnaturally long, fluttered.

She wasn’t an envoy. She’d come to Tempris for an opportunity of a different kind. To her,hewas the prize.

“Oh my Shards, can’t you see, Ruilla? You’re boring him to tears,” said a familiar voice.

Skye pulled back his focus from where he’d been listening to his brother, seated five chairs down, as he subtly pried apart a couple for no other reason than the fun of it. He gave the new arrival his full attention.

“Adalet,” he said.

Skye had known she’d made it back to Ryme, but he hadn’t seen her since that night in Della when he’d been so jealous ofTaly flirting with some damn trader that he couldn’t see past the end of his own nose.

She’d changed since then. Her dark hair had been cut into a short, choppy cap, smoothed behind her ears, and accented by a crown of jeweled hawthorn berries that swept the wildest pieces away from her striking face. She wore a white dress with red embroidery, the heavy brocade fitted to skim her curves.

Skye felt it like a tickle between his shoulder blades. He didn’t often get this… sensation. He was a shadow mage. Matured beyond the delicacy of youth and pretty damn impervious. He rarely had cause to be concerned for his own safety. Yet, he retained a keen instinct for recognizing danger.

He was sure that if he turned around right now, Taly would be staring at him with murder in her eyes.

Jezebel.

At least, that’s what he assumed the irate, bloodthirsty wave of psychic energy that came shuddering down the bond was supposed to mean.

“Move, Ruilla,” Adalet demanded. “You threw out your line. He’s not biting. Go make better use of the rest of your night.”

Ruilla gaped like a fish at the audacity. She looked to Skye for backup, clearly overestimating the effectiveness of her charms. A single, bored glance was all it took for him to convey his utter indifference.

A huff. Then she rose and curtseyed, eyes downcast. But when they raised again, it wasn’t defeat that he saw. It was fanaticism, bright and sharp.

Crown chasers. No matter how many times he sent them packing, how mean he was in his dismissal, they never gave up. Each rejection only seemed to embolden them.

It was precisely the reason he’d been drawn to Adalet. Like anyone else at court, she had her ambitions, but they’dnever included him. They were simply two people passing time together.