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Mercurial laughed. “The item you, we’ll say,acquiredat the festival.”

“Wh—” I cut myself off before I could demand he tell me why he wanted me to wear Ramia’s necklace. That would have been a question—a question that would have forced me into a deal with the Afeyan.

“I should think a messenger like yourself has more important matters to concern himself with than the daily jewelry selections of an heir.”

“One would think. And you are right. Jewelry does not concern me. But the piece is very becoming on you,” he said, “as it was on its former owner.” A wind swirled through his hair before caressing my cheek.

I squeezed my hands at my sides. He knew who owned the necklace, but I would not ask. I would not enter a bargain with him.

“You wore it once,” he said. “A lovely distraction. Another night will come—when you should wear it again.”

I stood taller. “I’ll have to see. Depends on my mood. And outfit.”

“You do many things based on your mood. I would have thought you more logical. After all, you still never told him your dream.”

Rhyan’s eyes flicked from me to Mercurial.

“We’re leaving,” he announced.

“May I offer her grace a kiss on the hand goodbye?” Mercurial asked.

I looked to Rhyan. It seemed like an innocent enough request, though nothing was what it seemed with the Afeya. Still, I had the distinct sense that I could not deny him. Had any other noble or foreign ambassador requested the same, protocol would have demanded I say yes.

Rhyan’s hand snaked around the hilt of his sword. “Approach her grace if you must. One kiss to the palm. Anything else, I strike.”

Mercurial rolled his eyes like he was dealing with a child throwing a tantrum as he sauntered in front of me.

I extended my right hand forward, palm down.

The Afeyan grinned up at me, his lips puckering.

Then, without warning, his hand shot up. A gust of air blew Rhyan back as Mercurial gripped my arm between his hands, bringing my wrist—my blood oaths—to his mouth. He kissed me there, right where Rhyan had moments ago.

“You bastard,” Rhyan growled, pushing against Mercurial’s magic.

Mercurial stepped back, released my wrist, and withdrew his magic from Rhyan. “Someone was very naughty tonight. A broken oath. A blood debt to be paid,” the Afeyan drawled.

I froze. He knew about Meera.

Mercurial grinned. “Of course, I know. Luckily for you, I don’t like to mix my magic with blood oaths. Distasteful. Instead, I will leave you with some advice, and in return, do me one favor.”

“I don’t do favors for Afeya,” I said.

“Then perhaps I will break my own rules and get in the middle of this blood debt.” His lips sneered. “I know you lie. I know you owe a favor elsewhere. To one of my kind—to a certain librarian.”

Rhyan had reached my side again. “Lyr,” he said under his breath. “No.”

“Tell me the favor,” I said.

“Wear it. Start wearing it on formal occasions, in battle. It was meant to be worn. By you.”

I bit my lip, desperate to ask why, to understand the importance of the necklace and what it meant and who it had belonged to and why Ramia had lied about it and why Mercurial was so invested in it and why he’d destroyed scrolls in the Great Library just to hold my attention, to force my curiosity and lure me into a deal.

“Your advice,” I said.

“The blood debt is hungry. You are not safe. And you never will be, unless one of two things happens.”

Rhyan’s arm wrapped around me.