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Rowan notices it immediately, of course. “I didn't realize you already had it brought over.”

“Of course. Right after you finished practicing, like you asked me to.” I glance sideways at him. “See? I can be a good boy.”

He snorts at the lie, but his gaze lingers on the covered shape a second too long. For a moment, I wonder whether he's seeing the Noctis or the tunnels back on Düren. With Rowan, it's hard to tell.

Around it, workers adjust lighting rigs and sound equipment while the last preparations for the Floor Show continue beneath the stained glass.

“You really expect me to play tonight?”

“Mouse, half the network is here because they heard you were playing.”

“That's horrifying, but—” He starts to say something else, but then his gaze catches the table I reserved for tonight.

I don't need to look to know who he's seeing. Aster Marrow. Or should I say, Sola Ashford.

The hunted bride. Just another one of the fucked up games the Reach’s elite likes to play. Never thought Cassian was so desperate.

Anyway, Rowan’s sister sits in one of the upper booths overlooking the pit, a crystal glass balanced loosely between her fingers. Her golden hair spills over one shoulder as she laughs at something Cassian says from where he stands behind her chair, one hand resting possessively against the carved wood.

Two of Cassian's men linger nearby, and judging by the way he watches her, he'd probably add twenty more if she let him. I can't exactly fault the man.

As though sensing him, Aster looks up, and everything about her changes. Her smile breaks across her face so quickly it catches even Cassian off guard, and Rowan is already moving before I think he even realizes he's doing it himself, leaving my side and taking the stairs two at a time.

I watch him go, shaking my head.

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Go have a drink with your sister.”

As I head for the bar, one of the bartenders notices me and steps forward.

“What can I get you, sir?”

For half a second, I consider asking the asshole how he knows Rowan. But then I glance toward the upper booth, where Rowan is smiling at his sister for the first time in years.

Fuck it. He's mine anyway.

“Two whiskeys.”

The glasses appear a moment later. I knock back mine, reach for the second, and do the same before glancing toward the booth where Rowan is still deep in conversation with his sister.

“Something sweet, no alcohol,” I say, my gaze still on him. “And... fuck it. Another whiskey.”

“Cheers.”

I turn toward the voice and find Professor Halvern beside me, a tumbler in one hand. He tips it in greeting before his gaze drifts to the booth where Rowan is already laughing with his sister. “I'm glad he's safe. And for what it's worth, Ciaran... I'm sorry.”

I frown. “For what?”

“For not telling your family everything when I should have.”

“Let me guess, those obligations again? Dad mentioned them. He was very mysterious about it.”

Halvern chuckles. “Something like that. But trust me, some promises aren't as noble as they sound.”

“Yeah, well...” Before I can decide whether I want to be angry or grateful, his attention shifts across the room.

Halvern inclines his head. “I should go.”

Then he's gone, weaving back through the crowd before I can ask anything else.