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“Let’s step outside and cool down.” Irin towed me along to the closest balcony, nodding to couples and smiling along the way like I wasn’t two seconds from going feral on him. “What is going on with you?”

Keeping the snarl in my throat was difficult. Irin finally let me snatch my arm away and I moved to grip the banister with both hands hard enough to whiten the knuckles. Anyone looking on from the inside would probably think I was light-headed and needed some air with how I leaned over the railing. Really, I was counting five things I could see in an attempt to not lose my composure entirely.

“You didn’t think there was anything off about that Forol bastard?” I kept my voice low enough that Irin had to move to my side to hear clearly. “He knows something about Trisne. The way he talked about her… What kind of friend of Jinon's talks about his daughter that way?”

He turned to lean back against the railing beside me, his hip lightly brushing my hand with his closeness. His arms folded across his chest and cut a sharp line along his shoulders where the coat pulled tight. “He was… odd,” he finally answered, “but nothing that would warrant such a violent reaction.”

"Of course not," I spat. "I'm sure Resparian nobility doesn't turn on their own very often. Nor would it seem odd for a manto speak about how passionate his friend's daughter is. How does that not sound perverted to you? Or even mildly suspicious, considering Trisne is now dead?"

The vehemence in my voice seemed to startle Irin. Whether it was from his upbringing in this woman-hating country or his separation of normal behavior because he's royalty, surely neither would make him so blind as to think Forol Hent was totally innocent.

He stared at me like I was a wild animal, wary I was going to tear his throat out. "Haron, I think you're blowing this wildly out of proportion," Irin began, his voice pitched low enough to stay between us. "Am I just supposed to haul in a man I've only spoken to once, and interrogate him on Trisne's death because he seemed odd? From one conversation?" He heaved a sigh and pushed his hand through his hair, turning his eyes to look out over the garden sprawled behind Pid's mansion. "I know you meant to attend this ball to find anyone who may be involved in her disappearance, but that seems a bit extreme to me. I thought you were gathering evidence, not going on a full-blown hunt!"

Something twisted painfully in my chest. Perhaps… he was right. I had no reason to be angry with him, just because Irin didn't share the same suspicion of Forol Hent that I did. I just couldn't shake the slithering, unsettling feeling that man gave me even with that brief encounter. There was just something wrong about him, and I was frustrated I couldn't voice what that was exactly. "I'm sorry," I finally managed to respond, even as the apology tasted like ash in my mouth. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I just… Forol’s behavior warrants some looking into, is all.”

Irin sighed, as if tired of the conversation. “I will ask my spymaster to see what he can find about him. Is that satisfactory enough for you?”

That will have to be enough. For now, at least. "I know you have constraints in your current position, so I appreciate the offer. I’m sure you would hate to rock boats with your ascension to king approaching.”

Irin leaned even closer into my side. The move was slow, a bit hesitant, like he expected me to turn on him and snap my teeth. “That isnotthe reason I’m hesitant to dig into the man’s background. It would be difficult for me to justify tearing his life apart on the back of empty accusations and a bad feeling. Even as the king apparent. It would not sit well with the nobility, I'm sure."

I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”

He sighed heavily. “In my thirty-two years of life, never has a woman said she is fine and actually been fine.”

"Thirty-two?" I scoffed. "What a babe! Even more reason to not listen to you, youngster."

One of Irin's brows rose in disbelief. "Really? We're bringing age into this? I'm afraid to ask what yours is, I've seen what you can do to a man's hand. I'm sure that is possible with any other body part I value."

Oh, he would absolutely roll if he knew my true age."Well, you have some sliver of common sense then. That's reassuring."

My shoulder pressed into his chest in a half-hearted effort to get some space, but Irin refused to budge. His arm wrapped around the front of my waist and kept our bodies close, his hip now pressed to mine as he tilted his head to peer beneath my veil. A playful smile tugged at his full lips. “Arewefine?”

“On what terms? This is nothing more than a mutually beneficial working relationship.” It was painful to swallow down the ire prickling in the back of my throat. But I was already drawing some attention from another couple standing on the other end of the balcony, even if they couldn't hear all we were saying. I had always been an expressive person.

So, I allowed myself to be wrapped even further into Irin's arms, and used my extensive acting skills to smooth over my outburst.

“Hmm, maybe so.” Irin’s mouth moved slowly, achingly so, to brush his lips against the lace-covered skin of my upper arm. The touch sent gooseflesh prickling under the thin fabric. “It would be foolish to let someone like you slip through my fingers. I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in something… more.”

“Well,” I hedged, tilting my head further out of reach of his devious lips. “You’re going to have to work for it, like everyone else.”

And with that I twisted out of his arm and dropped a proper, if not somewhat cheeky, curtsy before brushing past the baffled prince back into the ballroom. Regardless of his threats on managing my own interrogations, I would get what I needed from Jinon Pid about his so-called childhood friend.

Chapter Nine

Irin

The more I learn about Julra, the more sadness I feel with the council’s choice to remain neutral in all ways.

How surreal it would have been to walk the marble halls of the Clifftombs and speak to Princept Morrette themself.

How much would we have been able to contribute to each other’s growth if we had not kept every piece of

knowledge as a secret?

-"The Tragic History of Julra," by High Scholar Yuret Wend, Year 38 of Ber's First Reign

Watching Haron navigate the ball the remainder of the night was similar to watching an extremely skilled dancer, enchanting everyone she interacted with. She shook hands with nobles the proper way, with loose fingers and palm down as they wrapped gently over the other hand and tittered with the other ladies and Hilras as if they’d known each other since childhood. I half anticipated the more boisterous and straight-forward personality she showed me on the steps of the guild to be an issue in this kind of setting, but Haron seemed able to flip a switch and adapt effortlessly to this high-class setting.