His jaw tightens. Just a fraction.
"Einar is taken care of," Renan says, dropping onto a bench like he lives there. "He bought everything we fed him. War and Faith should be clawing each other's eyes out by next week. You're welcome."
Koshin doesn't respond. He's watching us—the space between us, the way we're standing. I realize, too late, that I was laughing at something Renan said as we walked in.
I was comfortable.
He noticed.
"Your mortal's got teeth, by the way." Renan's grin is playful. "Played Einar like a cheap fiddle. Didn't even break a sweat."
Koshin's nostrils flare. "Is that so?"
"Could've fooled me if I didn't know better. That whole pathetic-starving-girl act? Flawless. Really committed to the bit." He tilts his head, watching Koshin's face. "You should take her out more often. She's wasted sitting around here."
He's poking the bear. He knows exactly what he's doing.
"Thank you, Renan." Clipped. "That will be all."
"Will it?" Renan stands, stretching like a cat. "Right. I'll leave you two to... whatever this is about to be." He throws me a look—half warning, half amusement—and disappears down a corridor.
Leaving me alone with Koshin.
He doesn't move. Just stands there, stillness radiating off him in waves.
"You were laughing."
"What?"
"When you came in. You were laughing. With him."
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"We were joking about turnips. It wasn't—"
"You're comfortable with him now."
Not quite accusation. Not quite question. Something worse.
"I spent half the day pretending to be a starving peasant girl for your spy games," I say. "Forgive me for finding some humor in root vegetables with painted faces afterward."
His eyes narrow. "The turnips have faces?"
"Renan named them. Apparently there's a Gregory."
Something flickers across his expression—confusion, maybe. I've derailed whatever jealous spiral he was building. Good.
He crosses to me. His hand comes up, tilting my chin so I have to meet his eyes.
"You did well." Quiet. Intense. "Renan doesn't compliment people. If he says you have teeth, you have teeth."
"Great. I'll add it to my resume. 'Has teeth. Good at pretending to be pathetic.'"
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "You're not just the debt that I stole."
My pulse kicks. "What am I, then?"
His thumb traces my eyebrow.
