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“Tighter.” He refuses to look at me, instead staring somewhere over my head. “It needs to be secure.”

When I tug the straps tighter, my knuckles brush the thin shirt beneath the armor, causing his heartbeat to race.

“Pauldrons next.” I reach for the shoulder pieces, but he catches my wrist.

“Wait.” His eyes finally meet mine, the sky blue irises drawing me in. “You’re doing this wrong.”

“What?”

“You’re not bowing enough. You’re supposed to be humble, remember?” His grin returns in full, but it’s strained around the edges. “Bow lower.”

I glare with my hands on his chest. “I’m adjusting your armor. How am I supposed to⁠—”

“Just do it.”

I dip into an exaggerated bow. “Like this, my master?”

“Lower.”

I huff. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re a terrible squire.” He’s enjoying this, caught up in the tension despite his attempts to put space between us. “If anyone sees you acting like this, they’ll know something’s wrong.”

I hate that he’s right.

I execute a proper bow, holding for five heartbeats before straightening. “Better?”

“Barely.” All that intensity concentrated on me flips my stomach. “Again.”

I bow again, lowering my head toward his crotch, pausing there as if I might perform a different action.

He inhales sharply, and his hands twitch at his sides. The control that allowed him to walk away from me in the inn is stretched thin. It’s only a matter of time before he succumbs again. And when he does, I won’t let him stop halfway.

I’m patient. I can wait.

But not for much longer.

Azurea, the capital city of The Havens, bursts from the coastal plain like a goliath rather than slowly emerging like most cities, where scattered buildings gradually accumulate into crowded urban developments.

Azurea is one impossible structure, glittering under the late afternoon sun like someone crushed diamonds into the stone itself.

Towers spiral upward in geometries that make my eyes water, bridges strung between them without visible support. Everything about the city defies the ground it stands on. Structures extend over the water, some with platforms that lower to the waiting boats.

I stop walking to marvel.

Agnar keeps going three more paces before he notices I’m no longer beside him. “First time seeing a proper city?”

“This is not a city. Cities are built with stone and wood, but magic and whimsy created this.”

He runs his hand over a stone wall shaped and textured like a cloud. “When you gather enough magic users in one place, architecture stops following rules. Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

The gates are wide enough to march basilisk through.

Guards clad in iridescent, color-shifting armor observe us as we pass. They don’t pay us any attention, instead looming like decorative statues while the crowd flows between them.

The Havens haven’t seen war in the last ten generations. The country has a solid relationship and working rapport with the sirens that dwell between the islands of the nation, who keep them safe from intruders. The showy, ornamental guards have never been given a real reason to test their mettle.

Noises wash over us once we enter the gates. Voices call out in languages I don’t recognize as merchants hawk wares. Musicians play on corners. Children shriek and race around with abandon. Animals of all kinds add to the clamor. Combined, the cacophony amplifies until the air vibrates with life.