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Kage watched my movements, then chuckled. “Metallurgists craft our blades, infuse the steel and iron with the spells, poisons,whatever we need to stand fierce against an enemy. A mage blade, like the one you stole from me?—”

“Do you really want to get into the particulars of thieving, Thief?” I gestured at the table beside his bed. The knife glistened beneath the ropes of moonlight. “Clearly, it is back in your hands.”

“I think you are simply afraid to argue the point for you know I will win.”

“Dickhead.”

“Such a curious endearment.” Kage grinned. “As I was saying, without our metallurgist Soturi, our blades would fail us. There is weaker iron in our soil than on other continents.”

“Hmm. All right, what about the mind mages? They sound horrible.”

“Mages skilled with the mind are strategists, the swiftest to rise to commanders and regents.” He grinned a little wickedly. “It is best to learn how to ward up your thoughts, Wildling.”

My body hummed when he flicked a lock of hair off my brow. I was a stupid woman. This man was hot and cold, danger and safety. He was arrogant, unfeeling, and I could not keep my thoughts from spinning back to his every smirk.

“Bone mages are rare, and connect to the elements of the marrow,” Kage said. “Shifting it, manipulating it, to the point that if I wanted, I could snap your ribs and ram the point through your heart. You would not be able to stop it.”

I swallowed. “Pleasant.”

He flashed his teeth in another taunting grin. “I’m not saying I would. Only that I could.”

“And blood mages,” I said, voice soft.

Kage glanced at me. “They are formidable, indeed. Poisoners, curse breakers—a blood mage can split open the innards of an enemy, bleeding them from the inside out until it drains from every orifice.”

My chest tightened. “And I’m supposedly a blood mage . . . in the Soturi clan?”

The prince rolled onto his shoulder, mimicking my position, andpropped his cheek onto one palm. “That is what lore says of our dear Blood Sacrifice.”

“You don’t think I’m the Ravenwood heir, do you? Even though I chose Ravenwood for my mortal name. I mean, sort of strange, right?”

“Do you believe you are the heir?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, considering. “I don’t know. Sometimes I . . . can almost remember things?—”

“Like there is another life you know you’ve lived yet cannot bring out?” he finished softly.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Kage’s eyes darkened, but his features softened, as though he were considering a dozen new thoughts, as though there were words he wanted to speak, but could not. One of his large, inked hands moved, reaching out for me.

The door clattered against the wall. A man, broad and harried, stumbled into the room. I frowned. The same redhead from earlier with his one smoky eye.

Soon after, another man with dark, cropped hair, shapely brows, and a face made of chiseled stone followed.

Kage jolted back, sitting on the edge of the bed before the men could find their footing again. “What are you doing?”

The second man rose first. His face clear in the green candlelight. One breath, another, and his face grew familiar—only covered in a cloth over his mouth and chin. Good hell, he was one of the thieves. The one who’d called me cricket with his horrid hawk.

With a sharp draw of breath, he let out a bluster of words. “Hakon . . . Hakon was screeching. Took me some time to rouse, and when I did, I saw the varnan sphere had gone red. I woke Asger, and we came, but . . . perhaps the spell cast is growing fatigued. I do not see you lost in torment, My Beautiful Liege.”

Kage’s frown deepened. “What have I said about calling me that, Cy?”

“I’ve forgotten, perhaps you should bring your big body over here and remind me.”

“What is a varnon sphere?” I whispered.

“A warning talisman,” Kage said under his breath. “To warn them when nightmares arise.”