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Shadows glide past us; I don’t dare move a muscle until the strokes of their oars have faded.

I quietly lift the palm off my mouth and turn. Dark robes, a hood cast low. So much like Nicostratus, dressed this way. But the feel of him, the scent of him wrapping around me as we waited for the men to pass, his dominant‘quiet’...

“What are you doing here?” I rush out at a whisper.

He brings his face close to mine until I can see the cool displeasure in his eyes. “That is my question.”

He picks up the oar closest to him and gestures to the other. The island looms to our right; I watch Quin’s profile for a reaction, but he stares intently at the canal ahead.

“I told you not to come here.”

My stomach hops and I grip the oar. “I needed grey spotted frogs.”

“Lying to your king now?”

Quin continues rowing, but the scent of pain belies his stoic demeanour. Not a physical pain, though his leg seems cramped in this position, but deeper. An all-consuming, emotional pain.Heartbreak.

I turn my head towards the other boat, far in front, approaching the city wall.You were ahead of them.

My mention of this island brought him out here tonight; brought him this pain. I swallow a guilty tendril; it takes me three uneven breaths before I can speak. “Are we following to stop them?”

A contemplative nod.

I whisper, “Will sentinian spells be involved?” My stomach clenches. “I’m better left behind.”

“I need you to do the legwork.”

Legwork?

“They’ll disembark at some point,” he says. “Follow and look for evidence implicating my uncle—letters, documents.”

I blink at him. “I’m ascholar.”

“Who, I maintain, is fearless,” Quin says with a familiar chastising glance.

“What if they catch me?”

“Use your shield, like you almost did against me earlier.”

I lean toward him, surprised. “It was really that strong?”

He doesn’t look at me, but his jaw twitches. His hands tighten on the oars, and the silence feels sharper than the cold breeze. I pull back, not entirely at ease. “What if I can’t do that again?”

“Channel your feelings,” he bites out.

We row to the stone wall surrounding the royal city. I gaze quizzically at Quin as he thrusts his hands toward three key stones. The wall shifts, revealing itself to be a hidden gate.

The boat glides past the cold stone into a darker, forested area. The air grows heavier under the canopy of tall, thick trees. These trees are familiar. Too familiar.

My stomach tightens, and I dig my fingers into the edge of the boat. This is the royal belt, where I often went to look for...

I clamp my teeth together and shove away the memories. Not now. Not here.

Quin rows in silence, but I feel his gaze flicker toward me.

It’s also the place where the high duke’s redcloaks tried to kill Nicostratus. That memory, at least, doesn’t make my chest ache. Strange, the things I’d rather remember...

I curl into my cloak with a guilty shiver. “Feelings, feelings,” I croak, heart throbbing, the words barely louder than the creak of the oars.