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Warmth flooded her cheeks. This soft, apologetic side of him scared Lily more than his rude, ruthless side…

“Lily!”

Jarek frowned, directing it at Aarin who waved Lily over impatiently.

“Looks like the transport is here,” she announced, thankful for the interruption. She stepped around Jarek. “Are we good for now, Master Atwood?”

Jarek grabbed her by the crook of her elbow. “Promise me you won’t stray from the plan and get yourself killed.”

She glanced at the place where his hand fell. It was a solid guarantee. Lily had to make it back to Markoth to Luka, and she was going to do it after getting Gwyneth and Estelle out of Gridian. She wouldn’t die here. She met his face again. “I promise.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m impressed. No lying, yet.”

“I said I would try, didn’t I?”

“Is that what this is? Making good on your vow to be on your best behavior?” A smile pulled at his lips. “One more question before you go.” His touch left her arm to pinch the end of her hair—the gentle tug on her scalp sent a shiver down her spine. “Why didn’t you put that concoction in your hair today?”

Her heart kicked into a full-blown sprint. She wedged her helmet between them as if that would explain anything.

“Those girls were sold out by other Ashins,” he said. “They’re unlikely to trust you simply because you are too.”

“Ashin men sold them out,” Lily said. Disclosing her race to the girls may persuade them to try. At the very least, she hoped her silvery hair would keep the bestial lord of the house from killing her on the spot if she were to run across him.

Jarek made a thoughtful noise, his hand returning to her arm as he pulled her closer, the helmet trapped between their chests. “Don’t take it off anywhere for any reason, especially near Caiven. Please.”

That damned Diseased Flare must give him mind reading abilities too. She wanted to look anywhere else and nowhere at the same time, but ended up nodding without breaking his gaze, hiding the deliberate oversight under a willingness to comply with any demand that heady voice asked for.

He chuckled. “There’s that good girl you promised me today.”

Lily caught the gasp before it broke past her lips, but her skin flamed hot, and she knew it was flooding her face. Jarek’s arrogant stature melted, and he quickly let her go like she burned him. He turned his focus on an impatient Aarin.

“Be careful, Lilith.”

Lily used the predictability of her shift to get herself under control. The hours ticked on, the sun set, and Caiven’s guests arrived in a steady trickle. All dressed in clean pressed suits or sleek and shimmering gowns, and all presumed to be the wealthier men and women of Gridian looking to invest in Caiven’s distribution company in the city. They entered through the courtyard after dismounting from their carriages and up the stairs to the banquet inside.

Aarin took to his normal routine, unbeknown to Novak that he was informed on what was going to happen, a fact Jarek would ease him into when it came time to move into the armory. Caiven wasn’t due for a while longer, but as the number of people entering slowed, it was time to move.

When the patio was empty, Lily hurried through the route. Entering the building, she passed by no other guards but plenty of housekeepers rushing from one door to the next. At the top of the stairwell, music and voices poured out from the gathering. Lily waited until the one and only guard made his round, strolling by and out of sight. She moved toward the opening and passed a few tipsy guests who hardly noticed her. The other guard disappeared behind the parallel wall on the opposite side.

Holding her breath, Lily put one foot in front of the other, patrolling with purpose above the gathering. She flicked glances below, once, twice, before giving up after not spotting Jarek.

Lily nearly dove headfirst into the confined walls, not stopping until she was well out of sight and ear shot of the great room. In place of the sun from the skylights, the sconces were lit, filling the hallway with a dark yellow glow. A few more turns and she was upon the curtain. Finding it unmanned, she passed it, moving toward the bathhouse.

A few gasps sounded over the trickle of running water at her entry into the domed room, but Lily didn’t pause, looking for and finding Aarin just past the entrance, helmet off with a dingy knapsack in hand. He glanced at her, then behind to a group of three other women, bound and warily watching from a long stone overhang on the wall.

“Don’t panic, but we’re going to have to get out the long way.”

Lily didn’t, completely relieved to see him here just as discussed. “Why?”

Aarin reached into the bag and pulled out two grafts. “These were all I could find in his study. We can try his bedroom—”

Lily snagged them from his hands. The discs were larger and heavier than she was accustomed to. These had to be at least a quarter of a soul’s worth of power. Unlike the small, single-use grafts, these would grant their ability for a quite a while after the soul inside fused with the user.

“Take your pick,” he grumbled.

She read the Aithre runes. Protection. Stealth.

Lily shook her head. Since grafts were made using ghostsoil and souls, Amalia would be livid if she learned Lily had one in her system when she stepped foot in Rimore. There was too much she had on the line to risk it. She dropped them back into his palm. “This was all there was?”