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The general took Toven’s hand with a grin. “Orion’s boy. Your father owes me a game of cards!” His accent was crisp and tight.

Her mind twisted through what this could mean. Bomard was entertaining a general from across the sea? Was Mallow’s reach spreading?

“Please accept my father’s apologies that he couldn’t be here to escort you himself,” Toven said, with a glance at Gains. Gains narrowed his eyes at him. “I know how he appreciates Daward’s business.”

Daward was one of eight magical countries in the east. They also practiced heart magic, but it had been centuries since they had abused heartspring bonds in the same ways that Bomard currently did.

Briony had no idea what kind of “business” Orion Hearst had with Daward and its general, but she could assume it would not be something her own father would have condoned.

“Please send my regards to your father.” General Tremelo had a kind smile, but as he turned it on Briony, she braced herself for another lecherous gaze. “And who is this?”

“Briony Rosewood,” Toven said with a hint of arrogance. His arm wrapped around her waist loosely, his hand landing over her hip. “My heartspring.”

Tremelo’s eyes blinked twice, very quickly.

“Ah. Jacquel’s daughter.”

What did that tone mean? Had he been friendly with her father? Was he perhaps upset to see King Jacquel’s offspring being treated like property by Bomard? Briony couldn’t decipher it.

“Young Hearst has been rather ungenerous with her,” Gains said, his smirk returning as he sucked on his cigar. “This is Miss Rosewood’s first visit to Biltmore.”

Briony bit down on her tongue, resisting the urge to correct him.

“Far from her first visit,” Tremelo said lightly. “This was her father’s house not too long ago, was it not?”

His words seemed to steal the air from the room. Gains puffed on his cigar, and Toven’s lips lifted in a tight smile. Briony stared at the general, trying to figure out his intention in bringing up the real facts of the matter.

“Very true,” Gains said, covering. “I only meant that Toven has avoided bringing her to our weekly parties.”

Toven’s fingers tightened on her hip. “Well, after what happened with Cohle’s heartspring last month, I wasn’t in a hurry to bring her.”

Toven looked to Gains as the man’s eyes hardened.

Anxiety sparked in Briony’s blood. Something had happened to Cordelia?

“But surely with a golden heartspring, there would be no danger in showing her off a bit,” Gains said.

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard much about golden heartsprings,” Tremelo said genially, “and yet I still have no idea what it is that makes them so special.”

Briony’s ears pricked.

Gains tapped the ashes off his cigar. “The Rosewood blood, said to be golden, creates a more powerful heartspring bond. Both golden heartsprings measured considerably high in magical ability on our scale.” He nodded at Aron Carvin and Phoebe across the room and then grinned at Toven.

“Which is why we’re all so anxious to see Aron and Toven in the arena together. ”

Briony’s head was spinning with all the new information. An arena?

Toven’s expression remained placid. “I prefer to save my magic for whatever Mistress Mallow requests of me.”

Tremelo laughed. “Good soldier. My, I bet you’re up to your ears in power. It’s good to see Miss Rosewood looking no worse for wear because of it.”

There was something in the way Tremelo spoke—in the way Gains paused, in the way Toven’s fingers tightened on her hip—that made Briony wonder what was behind his words.

Daward didn’t practice mind magic, so she didn’t find any resistance when she carefully extended her index finger in a penetrating gesture and grasped the thread between her eyes.

Tremelo’s mind was a maze of strategy and tactics, but at the forefront she saw herself as Tremelo saw her: healthy and unharmed.

Briony slithered out of his thoughts and wondered what Tremelo’s true motiviation was here tonight. Who was he to report back to? And why was it important to him that the daughter of Mallow’s enemy was safe, though captive?

If Bomard was extending its influence, was Daward worried about their own futures?

“Quite a bit of power,” Toven said, agreeing. “I’ll leave you two to your evening.”

He shook both men’s hands and steered her around them.

“No need to keep the woman wound so tightly, Toven,” Gains said to their backs.

Bile curdled in Briony’s stomach. That was one innuendo she didn’t need unraveled.

She’d learned too many things in too short a time: Something had happened to Cordelia, there was an arena of some sort, and General Tremelo of Daward was not fully on board with Veronika Mallow’s Bomard.

Toven led her to the stairs that ran with the sacred waters. Railings splashed with flumes of trickling streams. She wanted to ask him what was going to happen in the “suite,” but before she could open her mouth, they’d arrived at the landing and were faced with a young guard in Bomardi blue.

“Toven.” He nodded at them. “Everyone’s inside.”

“Wonderful,” Toven said, raising his hand to present his black ring for inspection. “I love to make an entrance.”

The guard unlocked the door behind him that led to her father’s old open-air dining room.

When the door opened, raucous laughter beat against her eardrums, and Briony found a table set for eight. Seven young men were seated, drinking and smoking, and seven young women in collars lined the walls, eyes cast down.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt, and Briony finally focused her eyes on the men at the table as every gaze turned on their arrival.

Finn Raquin, Liam Quill, Lorne and Collin, two others she didn’t recognize.

And Canning Trow, standing from the head of the table. His smirk was wide and his eyes were hungry as he lifted his glass.

“Miss Rosewood. It’s our honor to host you tonight.”

In a disturbing show of chivalry, the other six men came to their feet, and Briony was abruptly reminded that she had no idea what the rules were in this new world.

Canning Trow grinned at her, his eyes sliding down her body. “Gentlemen, the golden heartspring is here.”