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It was a long, sleek black motor launch, completely unlike our tired green ferry. I had only seen boats like it in movies about wealthy people whose money was kept in countries they had never bothered to visit. The launch moved through the gray water at a steady, controlled pace and entered the harbor almost silently, without the rattling, coughing engine noise that usually announced the school ferry from half a mile away.

The envoys climbed the cliff steps in a measured procession. There were twelve of them, all wearing dark coats with the iron wolf-and-dragon insignia pinned to their lapels. Three wore gray instead of black and stayed close together as they climbed. Their expressions were controlled and unreadable, with the same distant professionalism I had noticed in Mr. Aske.

“Wardens,” Tamsin whispered beside me. “Council Wardens.”

One of them was a tall, pale man with silver hair. There was something familiar in the way he carried himself, and after a moment I realized why. He moved exactly as Delphine Marrow did, with the effortless certainty of someone who assumed every space would make room for him.

Then Tamsin drew in a sharp breath.

At the head of the procession walked Councillor Aldric Vance.

Kaelen's father.

I would have known him even without being told. He had Kaelen's height, Kaelen's bone structure, and the same ability to move through a crowd without ever appearing to ask anyone to step aside. The resemblance ended there. Kaelen's face was sharp and guarded, but his father's had acquired the smooth composure of a man who had spent decades being watched.

Aldric Vance was handsome, silver at the temples, and dressed with effortless precision. He smiled as he came through the gates, and the smile was warm enough to look convincing from a distance. His eyes remained completely unchanged.

We were lined up in the courtyard to greet them, House by House, with the Unhoused placed at the very end. Kaelen stood at the front of the Fenhall line.

When Aldric reached him, he put one hand on his son's shoulder.

Kaelen became perfectly still beneath it.

Then the Councillor continued down the rows. He offered a few words here, a laugh there, and shook hands with students and instructors alike. He was practiced at it, and every gesture looked easy.

Eventually he reached the end of the final line, where the school's one student without a House stood alone in her pilled cardigan.

He stopped in front of me.

“Miss Hale,” he said, holding out his hand.

I took it because refusing would have drawn more attention than I wanted.

His grip was warm, dry, and firm.

He did not release me.

The handshake lasted one beat too long, then another. His thumb shifted until it rested against the inside of my wrist, directly over my pulse and exactly where the silver thread appeared at night.

Then his nostrils flared.

He was smelling me.

He stood in the middle of the courtyard, in front of the entire school, smiling pleasantly while he held my hand and breathed in my scent.

A moment later, I caught his.

Cedar and snow.

For one instant my heart seemed to forget what it was doing. The scent was almost identical to Kaelen's, but only almost. Something underneath it was different, something unpleasant that I couldn't name at first because the familiar notes were so strong.

Then I understood.

The scent had begun to turn. The cedar and cold air were still there, but underneath them was a faint sourness, something spoiled beneath the surface.

“The famous Moonrun,” Aldric Vance said pleasantly. “And I'm told you have a way with bears.” His thumb moved once against my pulse. “My son tells me nothing about you at all, you know. That's how I knew you must be interesting.”

Then he released my hand.