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I back away from the shelves, tightening my robe around myself. Whatever has landed outside is large enough to carry away a car.

Sigurd wakes behind me and looks toward the window without any sign of alarm. When he rises from the couch, I get my first unobstructed look at what his tailored shirts have been covering.

The faint blue markings along his throat and collarbones continue across his bare chest. They follow the planes of muscle beneath his skin, dim enough not to overpower the moonlight but bright enough that I can see every line. His tentacles shift behind him as he crosses the room. Remembering the enormous bird outside requires more concentration than it should.

The creature knocks its beak against the glass with a sharp clack. Sigurd stops in front of the window and taps his knuckles against the pane.

“What is it?” I ask. “Even in Saltweather, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“It’s a roc,” Sigurd replies. “They nest on the upper peaks of Qaf and sometimes come down to investigate the buildings. They are curious creatures, but usually harmless unless someone gives them a reason not to be.” He taps the glass again, and the roc tilts its enormous head to follow the movement of his hand.

“You’re encouraging it.”

“I’m acknowledging it. I’m a guest in its territory, and ignoring the locals would be impolite.”

I look from the bird to him. “Your definition of polite is apparently much broader than mine.”

The roc gives the glass another questioning knock before settling its wings against its sides. Sigurd turns toward me, and the cold radiating from his bare skin reaches me across the few feet between us.

“Could you not sleep?”

“I thought I might find something boring enough to help.”

His gaze moves toward the shelves. “Rakan owns several volumes on pre-imperial maritime taxation. If those fail, there is also a six-volume history of port levies.”

“That sounds medically effective.”

Neither of us moves toward the books. Hattie once told me that billionaires live by different rules because they can afford to rewrite reality whenever it becomes inconvenient. “You can’t play their games, Val. You don’t have the cheat codes.”

Maybe that is true of some billionaires. Yet here, with no audience and nothing to prove, Sigurd leaves the distance between us untouched.

His gaze drops briefly to the opening of my robe before returning to my face. Heat moves across my skin anyway.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll climb toward the upper pools,” he says. “My mother will be there, and Maren will almost certainly stay close to her. Solveig is very good at making disapproval sound like fact, so don’t let her decide what you think of yourself.”

“I’m not intimidated by her, Sigurd.” My voice comes out softer than I intended. “I deal with overdue book fines. I have thick skin.”

His eyes remain on mine for another long moment before he finally looks away.

“Goodnight, Valerie. Try to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Sigurd.”

I close the bedroom door and climb back into bed. His blue light still reaches beneath the threshold, pulsing slowly across the floor.

Morning sunlight strikes the slopes of Mt. Qaf and turns the exposed emerald painfully bright. The trail winds upward between jagged outcrops, narrow in places and covered with loose green gravel that slides under my flats. A procession of wedding guests stretches ahead of us, most of them handling the incline considerably better than I am.

My foot skids, but I catch myself before I lose my balance. “Are we sure this path actually leads to a pool? I’m beginning to suspect the djinn invented it as a hazing ritual.”

Sigurd walks beside me without any visible effort. The climb hasn’t changed his breathing, and his suit jacket remains perfectly in place despite the rising sun.

“The djinn appreciate a dramatic ascent. Watch the loose stones on your left. The trail becomes easier once we reach the upper shelf.”

“You could have warned me there would be actual hiking involved.”

“You requested no magic, so we’re taking the manual path. Considering the altitude, you’re doing exceptionally well.”

I give him a look but save my breath for climbing. The trail narrows around a boulder that blocks most of the path, with a step that reaches past my waist.