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I blink, the weight of his concern stealing my breath.

He pulls me into an embrace, his voice low and rough in my ear. “I wanted to haul you into my arms the moment I saw you. But you were busy. And Chiron was there.”

I pull back sharply. “Wait. That vitalian was Chiron?TheChiron?”

His lips twitch. “He didn’t introduce himself?”

“No,” I say, more to myself. Too much was happening—or maybe he didn’t think me worthy of an introduction.

“Was he critical?” Nicostratus asks, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Should I put him in line?”

I bite back a laugh. “He’s one of the best vitalians alive. He’s allowed to be critical.”

I tug his wrist. “Come on.”

“Are you abducting me?” he asks, his tone amused. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you don’t like moths,” I reply. “I spotted one earlier. Rare. Its cocoons form near a fungus that sells for top coin to dance houses. But sometimes—once a century—they’re found on petrified violet oak roots.”

Nicostratus halts, his brows lifting. “Immortal Bone?”

I nod. “It can cure any poison.”

A shadow crosses his face and his step stalls. “If you find some... could I give part to my brother?”

I hesitate at the rich plea in his tone. The yearning. The care for a king who is the source of so many ills in my life.

My fingers tighten around his sleeve as the oath of a vitalian echoes in my mind: treat all equally. Even enemies.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say quietly.

The forest envelops us—towering trees, their silhouettes stretching darkly against the pale sky. Nicostratus conjures a soft flame, its light dancing off the gnarled trunks and mossy creek beds. I keep close; our sleeves brush as we walk.

“Tell me something about yourself,” I whisper, eager to distract from the prickling unease.

He exhales. “My mother poisoned my brother.”

The words land heavily, echoing against the rocks surrounding us as we step into a cave.

His voice rumbles, gravelly, weighted with memory. “She tricked my father into believing his first wife was unfaithful, and so he divorced her when she was still pregnant with my brother. Soon after, Father married my mother, who was also expecting. But when he discovered the truth, he could never forgive her, no matter what she did. His heart, it seemed, had never truly been hers.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “But you and your brother seem so close.”

“Father loved us both. We spent most of our time together, learning under the same tutor. Only in the evenings were we separated, back to our mothers’ wings.” Nicostratus’s smile fades. “I don’t remember much, but I’m told I fell into a pond and came close to drowning. Constantinos saved me.”

His sigh tugs at my chest. “But?”

He guides me carefully over a broken log bridge. “My mother feared that Constantinos’s heroism would influence Father’s choice of heir. He almost died, but fate was on his side, even if he never fully recovered.”

I grab his sleeve. “That’s awful.”

“She shifted most of the blame onto her aklas. She escaped the guillotine but lived with a life-shortening tea. Her health declined year by year until... she just passed.”

I struggle to find the right words. “It’s hard to fathom. Poisoning a child, especially one who saved your son...”

Nicostratus’s eyes are dark with pain.

I stop and place a hand on his arm. “Do you hate her?”