I decide to avoid the topic for a bit longer while I work out what to say. Instead, I mention the way Quinn seems to be everywhere that we are as I watch her walk away from Adria, unfortunately not on fire, and Larus thinks it’s no coincidence.
“Keeping an eye on you, I’m sure. For her father or the king, maybe both. She and Typhon are nearly twenty years apart in age. The rest of their siblings died in the war, along with their mother. Whatever begrudging affection Typhon has for our family after his years with us, I wouldn’t expect her to share it.”
I hadn’t realized until our encounter on the ferry that Typhondidhave a begrudging affection for us. But it’s good to know. We need every ally we can find around here.
Including, I realize, maybe even Quinn herself.
“There’s a chance she’s more amenable that she seems. Someone is. Someone on the inside, working against him.He’strying to find them.”
Larus shakes his head. “Not one of ours. But good to keep in mind. We know from the throne room that there are others with similar goals.”
How many others are plotting to do the same? If they succeed, our own plans could fail.
That’s at least one good reason to help Ronan.
I ask Larus why he invited Felix here—he didn’t intend to, but he thought it would put him in his place once he saw how good we are in a fight, although it’s unclear how much of the day he’ll even remember. And then I talk at length about the palace, the food, and the sights of the market, still avoiding the true topic of conversation.
But Larus knows me too well. As I dive into my third mention of the bathing caves, he holds up his hand to stop me. “This isn’t what you wanted to speak with me about.”
He’s right, of course, but it’s unnerving how easily he sees right through me.
“I met someone the first night we arrived in the market,” I say, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I look around us. Even though we’re at a distance from the nearest spectators, there’s always a risk that a wind-born is near enough to hear. I drop my voice low. “It was him. In disguise.”
“Disguised how? Wearing a wig? Did you recognize him immediately?”
I shake my head. “His magic.”
“There were rumors,” he muses. “Not about him, but some of the old kings and queens. Never verified.”
“Or perhaps stricken from the record.”
Larus nods slowly, stroking his beard. “When did you know?”
“That night, although I wasn’t certain until last night.”
“When you saw him again.”
I nod.
“Did he follow you there? To the market?”
“I think so.”
Larus claps for someone emerging from the water-born trial. The sudden movement and sound startle me. I hadn’t even noticed they were swimming. “It seems he shares our idea,” he says as I join his applause.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that he wants to keep you close just as we want to keep you close to him. Convenient, but also dangerous. Has he done anything to endear himself to you?”
I blush, remembering the near-kiss. “Maybe once or twice.”
“And did it work?” Larus has been keeping his eyes forward, but he shifts them to me then, and I know he can see the answer before I say it.
“I liked Soren,” I admit. “That was who he pretended to be. But I don’t know the real him. I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times.”
That was the truth of it. No matter how much I’d liked Soren, Ronan wasn’t Soren, and I had no real idea how much they had in common. It could be everything or almost nothing. The entire existence of Soren could have been made to appeal to me specifically, for all I knew. Ronan couldn’t read thoughts, but it seemed like more than a coincidence that my impression of him as too perfect when we met led to meeting a version of him with flaws fully on display.
“Be careful,” whispers Larus, his hand twitching over his sword reflexively. “It benefits him to win you over. Don’t forget it.”
