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“What?”

“Grant permission for Florentius and me to go to his brother. On the other island.”

A streak of fear and pain lances through Quin; his hand shifts and whitens around his cane. “No.”

I raise plaintive eyes to his.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” Quin throws out a spell. It first hits hard against the clasp on my cloak, which breaks and clatters to the ground along with the fabric it had held together. The spell slides over me like a blanket, suctions close until my body is enclosed in a quiet, glowing hum.

“What is this?”

“A reminder. Keep your distance, or you’ll find my patience has limits.”

He pushes into the palace; his son screeches his name, rushes towards him, and pounces into his arms. Veronica follows, gently chiding the boy as Quin sheds the sternness he had with me and lifts him over his head, using magic to spin them around. “You’re getting heavier every day.”

“Soon I’ll be as big as you!” He giggles. “When can I visit? I miss Generalus.”

At Quin’s fatherly-warm reply, I pick up my cloak and tie a knot to keep it in place. Nicostratus was right. I just... Florentius...

“Shield!” Nicostratus yells from behind, and I whisk on the spot and freeze—

The sword doesn’t land. I’m sure it wouldn’t have anyway—Nicostratus would have pulled back. But something stops his sword before he can. The glow around me booms outward at the attack and punches his weapon away.

“That’s not your shield,” Nicostratus murmurs. He tries to come forward, but the aura around me stops him coming any closer than a foot.

I frown. Nicostratus can’t reach out and touch me, but I seem to be able to reach through and touch him. I pull his sleeve. “Your brother did this. What is it?”

“A cloaking shield. Some use it when they fear poison; it won’t let anything harmful in. Nor out, for that matter, so if you were planning on poisoning anyone, best not to while wearing a shield like this.”

“Poison anyone! I’m a healer.” I pause. “Some medicines are poisons though.”

Nicostratus nods.

I ask him to try to touch me again; he can’t. “Couldn’t you wear this all the time? Instead of armour?”

“Magic is mighty, but it’s fickle. What if the shield dissolves mid-attack? You’d be left with no protection. It’s always better not rely on it.”

I shake my arm, but the glow doesn’t waver. “How long does it last?”

“My brother’s shield will last longer than most. Perhaps, though,” Nicostratus grins, “not as long as mine.”

I laugh. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That depends. Are you impressed?”

He laughs and I follow his footsteps to the canal on a hummed sigh. His kindness is always a warm blanket, a safe space. Cozy, comforting. Definitely not sharp with a propensity to utter harsh truths.

“Let me take you to your quarters,” Nicostratus offers.

I glance along the water to a boat of retiring aklas. Any one of them could be a spy for the duke... “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“It’s a stop on my way.” He steps into a small boat and reaches out to haul me in with him. Blocked. I reach through the shield and grab hold of him. He smiles and helps me aboard.

I sit with a relieved sigh and roll my shoulders.