Page 93 of Silvercloak

Levan glared after him, then, instead of meeting Saff’s questioning gaze, he rearranged his cloak and looked back at Zares, who glared loathingly through her tears of pain.

“Shall we?”

BACK ON THE RIVERBOAT, LEVAN ASKED TO SPEAK TO SAFFin a small office at the stern of the ship.

Rasso followed at her heels. The fallowwolf hadn’t left her side since thepraegeloscharm, and kept nuzzling his face against her thigh. On the gondola, he’d curled up in her lap, and Levan had eyed them jealously when he thought Saff wasn’t looking.

The beast’s newfound affection filled Saffron with an unexpected warmth—there was something primal, comforting, about a soft body pressed against your own—but also a kind of latent unease. This was Lorissa Celadon’s pet, and now he doted onher.Any connection to the dead queenpin felt damning, somehow. It was the same way she’d felt upon learning of Lyrian’s knack for illusions. She did not appreciate the reminders that the Bloodmoon founders were people, just like her.

The riverboat office very clearly belonged to Levan. There were books and plants and little dragon statuettes everywhere, as well as a large sepia map of Ascenfall hanging on the wall. Gold drawing pins were pressed into a seemingly sporadic selection of locations: the southern tip of Mersina, a valley in Laudon, the craggy heart of Nomaden. Shishai and Soral and Suva, even a speck-sized island in the Ashen Narrows.

Levan stood and faced the map, his back to Saffron, hands balled up at his sides. Saffron’s own were clasped behind her back—she’d stanched the bleeding of her forearm with a torn strip of her cloak, but she didn’t want Levan to spot the dark tide marks of dried maroon on her sleeve. He’d only offer to heal her, and she could not let him know that she was immune to such things.

“Thank you,” he said, soft and measured, and she didn’t have to ask for what.

The impish idiocy she’d inherited from her father suggested that she goad him, that she mock the way he’d needed a knight in shining cloak, but she suppressed the urge, learning from past mistakes. She had the distinct sense that this conversation could be an important one in her relationship with Levan—in getting him to open up, in getting him to trust her. Taking the almighty piss would not help matters.

“That charm you used,” he said quietly. “Praegelos? Where did you learn it?”

“My mother,” Saff said carefully.

“And when she cast it, she was able to continue roaming through space even when time itself was frozen?”

Ah.The detail Aspar had snagged upon.

Saffron had concluded that this curious quirk was a consequence of her magical immunity—when enchanted, even the stalwart forces of time and space did not impact her the way they ought to—yet this too must remain a secret from the Bloodmoons. Saffron was weaving a complicated web for herself, and she had to make sure she never became trapped by it.

“Yes. My mother usedpraegelosto buy herself time with trauma patients.” The lie came easily, confidently. “To treat them before their condition worsened.”

His hand curled and uncurled at his hip. “Can you teach me?”

Saints.It wouldn’t work the same for Levan. It would only freeze time; he wouldn’t be able to move through it.

“What is there to teach?” Saff muttered evasively. “You say the words and time stops.”

“You know as well as I do there’s more to casting than that. Magic is directional, but time is everywhere. Where do you aim your wand?”

Saffron said nothing; almost always the safest choice.

“You don’t want to teach me,” Levan said mildly, still with his back to her. “You think I’ll use it against you.”

Instead of answering directly, Saff did what she did best: rerouted.

“My old captain had a theory,” she started, “that the Bloodmoons had developed a spell or device to siphon pain’s potency away from the victim. So that you could inflict torture and reap the benefit for yourself, instead of giving the victim a potentially lifesaving power boost. But I’ve never seen you use such a thing, and Zares seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

Levan shrugged, but it was careful, stiff. “Pain is not something I’ve ever found myself to be lacking.”

A strange thing to say. She’d never seen him especially injured, and earlier he’d healed those ghastly welts with little to no effort.

“Are you saying such a device or spell does exist, and you choose not to use it?”

He used her own trick against her, dodging the question.

“Whydidyou save me?” Levan’s words were precise, puncturing. “From Zares’s curse. We’ve already established that inaction does not trigger the brand. You could’ve let me die, and no ill would have befallen you. So why didn’t you?”

Saff found that she did not have a good answer, and so once again she did not offer one.

Levan finally swiveled on his heel, and Saff was surprised by the expression on his face. He almost looked angry. “Why did you save me, Silver?”