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"I did," I croak, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. "I said completely forgettable."

Elias’s laughter is sharp and wicked beside me, drawing stares. "Luna, baby, that man could grind diamonds on his stomach and you told him he’s forgettable."

Silas slaps his thigh, still grinning like an idiot. "You really know how to ruin a man."

I groan, wanting to melt into the cracked cobblestone under my feet. "I have to move. I can’t ever see him again."

Silas slings an arm around me, shaking with laughter. "You know he’s gonna make you talk about it, right?"

"Please," Elias smirks, voice like velvet and razor blades. "You told Orin—Orin—that he was forgettable. That man’s gonna write a book about it."

My cheeks burn hotter, stomach curling into a pit of embarrassment and something far, far worse. Because I remember how he looked at me—how calm he was, how completely unaffected. Like he’d known I would look, and he liked it.

And now I’ve told him he’s average. I don’t know if I want to die or crawl back to the house and apologize until the end of time.

Silas’s voice drops, grinning close to my ear. "Bet you a week of kitchen duty he makes you say otherwise."

I shove him hard, but my heart is already spiraling because he’s right.

Orin Vale is many things—quiet, wise, infuriatingly patient—but forgettable isn’t one of them.

And I’ve just dared him to prove it.

Silas is still cackling beside me, like he’s physically incapable of letting this go. He’s halfway through wiping a tear from the corner of his eye when he gasps, "Speaking of average abs—"

My stomach drops.

"No," I breathe, following his gaze like a woman about to witness her own execution.

And there he is.

Orin, fully clothed now—thank the gods—but still dangerous, still magnetic, still walking toward us with that maddening,measured pace like he has all the time in the world and not a single weakness in his bones. His gaze is locked ahead, sharp and deliberate. And I know exactly where he’s going.

Straight for me.

Panic floods my veins.

I do what any dignified, self-respecting woman would do in this situation.

I try to hide.

I whip around, looking wildly for cover like a hunted animal. There’s nothing—just the market square, villagers, stalls. No alley, no wall, no shadow to sink into.

So I do the next best thing.

I duck behind Silas.

He freezes, glancing over his shoulder at me like I’ve lost my mind. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shield me," I hiss, gripping his arm. "You’re taller."

He’s grinning so hard his face might split open. "Luna, sweetheart, your subtlety is appalling."

I peek around him, heart hammering. Orin’s closer now, weaving effortlessly through the crowd, polite nods and brief acknowledgments tossed like spare change. He doesn’t miss a step, but I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch.

He knows I’m hiding.

Silas is no help at all. He steps deliberately aside like a traitor, leaving me exposed.