“No, you won’t,” Malcolm said, though he didn’t remove the other man’s hand. “Worst case, it’ll be blackmail. Gabe and I can handle that.”
Gabe’s fingertips warmed. Oh yes, he could handle that.
“If we aren’t back by the next morning,” Malcolm continued, looking to Val, “you, Michal, and Mari take the ship.”
Val’s lips were a bloodless line, but she nodded.
And that was that.
A book sat on the desk, one smuggled to Malcolm from the library at Farramark University. Gabe jerked his chin toward it, eager to change the subject. “Find anything in there?”
“Possibly.” Malcolm waved his hand at the notes. “Something about pieces of the Fount, bringing them back together. Could be something, could be nothing.”
That singed scent was in Gabe’s nostrils again. He eyed Malcolm’s notes, flames flickering at the edges—three pieces, marked with a moon and a sun and elemental carvings. Hidden, the notes said, both in plain sight and in deep places…
“I need a drink,” Malcolm murmured.
Gabe shut the book, closing the notes inside. “On that, we agree. Come on; if there’s one thing this city has, it’s an abundance of taverns.”
CHAPTER THREE
ALIE
Keep your lovers close at hand
And your enemies near your heart.
They both hold knives.
—Excerpt fromMother Saysby Honora Torlius, Kirythean poet
Alie.”
She ignored him. She had gotten very good at ignoring him. Especially when he used her shortened name, as if they were friends. As if this engagement were anything more than a punishment.
“Alienor.”
No. Still ignoring. Even though there was a pleading edge to his voice now, and even though they were in mixed company. Once, she’d cared what this court thought of her. She’d done her best to play her part perfectly. A good daughter, even if she and her father barely spoke. A witty socialite, hosting the best parties for the right people. A loyal friend.
Now she was the fiancée of the Kirythean Emperor, half sister of the Sainted King. Alie didn’t know how to play those parts. She was stumbling around on the same stage without cues or lines.
Jax sat next to her, face expectant and anxious. It still unnerved her, howanxioushe always looked when he was trying to engage her in conversation. When he was trying to make it seem like this was real.
It was easier to believe that he was playing a part, just like she was. Alie didn’t want to consider the alternatives. But he was undoubtedly a better actor.
She finally tore her gaze away from her half-full wineglass and focused her attention on the Emperor. He was attractive, unfortunately. Not in the way she usually preferred, rugged and brooding, but in a clean, meticulous way. His blond hair was always tied back just so. His spine was always straight.
“Yes?” Alie said, realizing she’d completely missed whatever it was he wanted her to comment on.
He relaxed, just a bit. Every call and response between them seemed like a game, points kept in a croquet match. “Lady Villiers was wondering if your afternoon walk was disrupted by the high winds today.”
“They were dreadful.” The aforementioned lady shivered theatrically in her seat, making sure the reaction could be seen. The long table in the rose-choked atrium was full of courtiers today, and she was clearly relishing being sat so close to the head. So close to the King.
“It’s been such a nice autumn,” Lady Villiers continued, picking at the roasted pheasant on her plate, “so lovely and warm, I’d forgotten that winter was on the way.” A high, tinkling laugh. “Those winds surely reminded me.”
Alie’s hand tightened around her goblet, so much so that she was sure her engagement ring would shriek against the crystal. It was a pretty, simple thing, a square-cut diamond on a golden band. Too big, so it was always twisting toward her palm. “I suppose I missed them,” she said. “I don’t recall any winds when I took my walk.”
None that were natural, anyway. None that she hadn’t conjured herself. She’d have to be more careful now, since it’d been so unseasonably warm. The deep heat of this past summer had abated, somewhat, but it certainly didn’t feel like fall.
