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“Were those the names you wanted from Petros?”

“I think so. I got one from Aklo. I’ll look into it.”

“Can Aklo be your witness?”

“Partially. Though...”

“Though?”

“He has a price.”

I can piece together the nature of that price. “It’s... my gut says that’s... not right.”

Water ripples around us and birds call lazily from trees. I squirm on my seat in the silence between us.

Quin eases the dinghy up to a post alongside the scholar quarters but stops me before I spring out. He pulls the silver clasp from his pouch, and I sink back onto the seat. “I thought you gave Aklo your share of the winnings.”

“I gave him the gold.” He says it simply, like the clasp has always been, and will always be, non-negotiable. He removes the buckle on his black cloak and fuses the clasp there.

“Not going to lie,” I murmur. “I was expecting you’d give it back to me.”

“Expecting?”

“Hoping.”

“Youlostit.”

I look up from the exquisite silver design to his chastising headshake. “Did you not see how hard I tried to win it back?” I fold my arms, and then frown. “I couldn’t distract you!”

“I was distracted. I just happened to be more determined.”

“To beat me?”

“To see how far you’d go to get it back.”

“I stood on my horse! On one leg! What more do you want from me?”

An answer forms in the depths of his eyes, flickering briefly to the surface before he reins it in.

I tell myself I’m here because of duty—because someone has to keep this stubborn king alive. But every time he looks at me with that guarded intensity...

He moves back.

I snatch his hands and crush them between mine, so tight I feel his pulse jump. “I won’t lose it again.”

He frees his hands, and his words sound like they’re ripped out of him, raspy in his throat. “Take off your cloak.”

I obey quickly; he hesitates, just for a moment, then takes his beautiful black cloak off and throws it around my shoulders. The clasp is a gentle weight at my chest, and I press my palm against it.

“You made the right choice.”

“I don’t know about that.”

I climb out onto the bank and he rows back towards King’s Island. My gaze follows him for a few moments before it sweeps along the canal to the bank on the other side. My breath hitches. There, in her riding gear, Veronica stands among long grasses, watching me.

She speaks briefly to the aklos behind her, then uses her inner power to leap over the canal.

“I saw,” she says.