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“You should have told me that was one of your expectations before I agreed.”

Eagan makes a sound behind us that could be a cough or a laugh. Kylian gives him a dark look.

Moving across the deck, the wind hits hard enough to make my eyes water, and I grip the edge of Kylian’s coat while following his gaze across the darkening water. At first I see only waves.

Then I spot it.

A ship sits far off in the distance, its shape dark against the falling light, its sails angled toward the pale line of land far beyond our course.

“Is it Draven’s?” Kylian asks.

Eagan lifts the spyglass and holds it steady, his body unmoving despite the wind snapping at his coat.

“It could be one of his,” Eagan says at last. “The hull is right, but I can’t see if it is him personally.” He tosses the spyglass. “My eyes are better without this useless thing.”

Kylian keeps watching the ship until it begins to fade into the waves.

“If Draven is sending vessels toward Kaiser, then he is buying something, selling something, or making deals that will make this war uglier.”

“You’re worried he might ask the Elven King to go to war against you?” I ask.

Kylian looks down at me then, and the hard line of his face eases by a fraction.

“Draven would have to offer him something worthwhile, Kaiser doesn’t like to involve himself with other kingdoms unless they have something he wants.”

“Come, we should go below deck. It’s getting cold.”

“The cold can’t kill me now,” I retort.

“No, but your sass will be the death of me,” he chuckles, tucking me closer beneath his arm and dipping his head. “I want to feed, so unless you want witnesses . . .” His words die off while my gums tingle, making me gasp. My hand moves to my lips, and I can feel my own teeth elongating. My brows crease, and Kylian tugs my hand away from my mouth. “The thought arouses you, little mage, just as it does me,” he chuckles.

Heat rushes into my face so fast I can almost forget the cold wind cutting across the deck, and I try to pull my hand from his grip, but he keeps my fingers trapped in his.

“That is not funny,” I mutter, though the words come out softer than I intend because the strange pressure in my gums has not faded, and every time my tongue brushes the points that should not be there, something low in my stomach tightens in a way that makes it impossible to stay annoyed for long.

Kylian’s smile deepens, but there is something beneath it now, something warmer than teasing and sharper than amusement, and when his thumb brushes my lower lip, his gaze follows the movement with the kind of attention that makes my stomach flutter.

“It is a little funny,” he says, lowering his voice as Eagan makes another suspicious sound behind us. “You were horrified by the idea of fangs when I warned you, and now you are standing on my deck looking as though you are trying very hard not to bite me in front of my men.”

Eagan clears his throat loudly. “For the sake of everyone currently trapped aboard this ship with you both, perhaps take this conversation below deck.”

I turn my glare on him, which only makes the corner of his mouth twitch as he turns away and lifts the spyglass again, pretending with very little effort that he is deeply invested in the distant ship.

Kylian’s hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me toward the stairs with a possessive sort of care that steadies the restless pull humming beneath my skin.

“I hate both of you,” I say.

“You do not,” Kylian replies, leaning close enough that his mouth brushes my ear. “But if it makes you feel less embarrassed, you may continue pretending.”

I should say something sharp enough to make him regret looking so pleased with himself, but the pressure in my gums pulses again, small and insistent, and my fingers tighten around the front of his coat as we descend the narrow stairs into the warmer belly of the ship.

The sound of the deck fades above us, replaced by the groan of wood, the rush of water against the hull, and the softer quiet of the passage that leads to our room, and with every step away from the cold air, the bond seems to grow warmer, thicker, more aware of him beside me.

Kylian opens the door and ushers me in first, I move toward the bed because standing too close to him has me on edge, but he catches my wrist before I make it more than two steps.

“Alessia.”

The way he says my name stops me more effectively than his hand does.