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All I can do is shake my head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t seem concerned when you refused to—how did you put it?—beg for clemencyon my behalf.”

“You’re lucky I did follow you, because when I was near the main entrance to the salt mine, I saw someone cutting open the lock on the gate. If I hadn’t gone after him, you’d be lying dead under a pile of fallen rocks right now.”

I twist my wedding ring around my finger, trying to set together everything Alastair has told me. A cut lock, the boy at the altar, Therion’s cries as the darkness filled the room. “Who was that boy in the mine?”

“If I had to make a guess, I’d say he was one of the Salt Priests. Therion is special to them; they wouldn’t want him connected to someone outside their sect. Particularly not someone like you.”

“What do you mean,someone like me?” I know exactly what Alastairmeans—the same unsaid reasons he intimated when he sent me away from his house four years ago. That to him, to everyone, I am not worthy. Heated indignation burns me, makes my nails dig into my palms. I wait for him to answer. I want to hear him say it.

He holds my gaze with studied carelessness. Silence draws out as we stare at each other, then he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry, mirthless laugh. His mouth twists, an expression that is more grimace than smile. “To begin with, you don’t drink salt water.”

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. “How would the Salt Priests have heard about my betrothal?”

“I don’t know, Lacrimosa. I’m not an expert on the ways of Salt Priests.”

“Funny, you act like an expert on everything else.”

Alastair sits down on the chaise, pinching the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. “Perhaps Therion sent them an invitation to the ceremony,” he says sarcastically. “Or maybe they had a vision of you during one of their seawater-drinking rituals.”

I take a heavy step toward him, picturing myself grabbing the front of his sweater and shaking him until that snide look is gone from his face. With effort, I swallow down my fury and sit at the opposite end of the chaise. “It would have been helpful if you didn’t lie to my brothers about what happened.”

“I didn’t see a reason to overcomplicate things: You were safe, the danger had passed.”

“Or you didn’t want them to know that you’d stolen from me.”

Alastair shoves himself up from the chaise and crosses the room, to where his overcoat is draped on the back of a chair. He starts to rifle through the pockets. “Why do you need the mirror so urgently? Do you intend to summon Therion again? Perhaps you miss your husband.” He snorts, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize it was a love match.”

I take a deep breath. The truth lies in my mouth with a taste ofsmoke and bitter berries. It aches to be so honest with Alastair Felimath, of all people. I feel as though I’m drowning and I’ve grasped for a tether line without thinking of who holds the other end.

“I was supposed to go with him to the chthonic world. That was our agreement: He’d restore the mine and I would stay with him until the end of the salt season. But instead, I woke up here.”

Alastair comes back to the chaise and drops my mirror carelessly onto the cushions beside me. If he’s shocked by what I’ve told him, he doesn’t let it show. “And you’re… disappointed, to still be in Verse?”

“I’ve seen things, inside my house. Water pouring down the stairs. My veil was in my room, but I know it was left in the mine. A face at the window—it looked like Therion. He’s angry with me, because of what happened at the ritual.”

“Who would have imagined plying a god to do your bidding would have consequences?” Alastair mutters to himself.

I ignore him, forcing myself to continue. “And I… lost time. I closed my eyes in one place, woke up in another hours later.”

He’s quiet for a moment, as though deep in thought. Then he gestures tersely in my direction. “May I…?”

“May youwhat?”

“I want to check something. Hold still.”

He shifts closer, one hand outstretched. I dip my head as his fingers pass lightly over my temple. He’s barely touching me, and his face is scrunched up in an expression of annoyance. But even in the dim light of the library, I can make out a stark blush on his cheeks.

As he traces along my hairline, then over the curves of my skull, my skin turns heated, my nerves crackling. I don’t want to think of the last time he touched me like this—his fingers in my hair, his forehead against mine, the catch in his breath when I said his name. But I can’t help it. It shouldn’t feel nice to be so close to him again, but it does, and I hate it.

Then he presses down. I hiss at the sudden pain, wriggling away from him. “Ouch!”

“You have an enormous bump right there,” Alastair explains. “You probably hit your head in the mine. Between that, all the chthonic liquor, and breathing in whatever you burned in the brazier, I’m surprised you didn’t see a whole pantheon of gods outside your room.”

He’s being dismissive rather than reassuring, but part of me wants to believe him. If what I saw was only a hallucination, then I’ll be safe. But there’s too much proof for me to pretend it isn’t real. “I don’t think all of this can be so easily explained away. And I didn’t just see Therion outside my room. The Salt Priest from my betrothal—what ifhe’sstill here?”

Alastair drags a hand through his hair with an irritated sigh. “Look, I’ll walk you home, check around your house.”

“Fine.”