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I was reaching for its hanger when a silhouette appeared outside my tent.

“It’s me,” Keil whispered, settling my leaping pulse. Then he was inside with me, the silk swaying behind him.

“Did something happen?” I asked. He should’ve been heading to the docks by now, getting ready to sail by river to the eastern location.

“There’s a delay. Dash saw a few men scaling the Aarai Cliff, and we want to make sure they’ve cleared out.”

I chewed my lip. If there were too many people around the Aarai Cliff during Perla’s dive, it could compromise her efforts to get away. “Were they partygoers?”

“The lanterns hadn’t been lit yet, so it was too dark to tell. But stay watchful and make sure she doesn’t dive until the waters are clear.”

I nodded, breathing deeply to steady my nerves.

“You know your position for after the dive?” Keil asked.

“Yes.” I was to remain with Holden while he sent divers searching for Perla.

“And you know where to go if there’s trouble?” Keil’s demeanor was hardening now, the soldier in him surfacing as he prepared to take his leave.

“Yes,” I said, remembering the cove from the map he’d given me earlier: a safe place to hide until any trouble I encountered blew over. Because once Perla dived, and until the others returned, I really would be alone.

“And if we don’t come back,” he said, his worry spilling over, “you’re to take the boat we left there and follow the smuggling route to the mainland. You have to promise me—”

“Keil.” I said his name softly, and yet he jolted as though I’d shouted. “I know.”

I could tell he heard the words I didn’t say: I know my position. I know you’re anxious about leaving me here. But I know I can do this.

He swallowed, the military stiffness thawing as a pained look briefly crossed his face. Then he touched my cheek, the gesture too fretful and automatic to savor. “Be careful,” he said, repeating the words he’d spoken on the riverbank all those weeks ago, when we’d both thought it would be our final goodbye.

“I have to be,” I murmured, wrapping one hand around his wrist. Then I leaned up, brushed my lips against his in a barely there kiss, and whispered against his mouth, “I still owe you a dance.”

Music blasted from every corner of the Crater. The charged atmosphere truly straddled the line between revelry and battle, from the swarm of bodies to the bonfire embers flurrying through the night. The compass was tucked alongside my mother’s coin in my thigh pouch—positioned higher than the slash in my skirt—and I felt, for the first time in a while, the vulnerability of having it strapped to me while I was so outnumbered. Yet I held my chin high as I blazed through the festivity, my specter pulsating faster than the drumbeats.

The golden swathes of Holden’s private tent shone at the far end of the Crater, a large nightstone pit glittering at its edge like a sunken pool. The music became slightly less strident, and the smell of smoke less chafing, as I drifted inside.

An ornate chandelier hung from a wooden beam, its glare bordering on uncomfortable compared to the hazy glow outside. Cold dinner items already occupied the large oak table: paper-thin meats and pillowy breads, leafy salads and aromatic grains. Beverage decanters lined a table at the back of the tent, alongside sumptuous fruits and caramel disks that glimmered like coins under the light.

I strolled toward that back table, using the moment of solitude to settle my breathing. I chose a caramel disk studded with salt and let it melt on my tongue, the sweetness helping to unravel my tension. I was coming to the edge of the table, toward one of the tent’s central poles, when footsteps sounded at my back, and a tall shadow stretched ahead of me.

I was about to turn, ready to greet either Holden or Finbar, when a strong arm looped around my waist from behind, the touch so confident that I didn’t need to look back to know it belonged to Keil. He must have still been waiting to access the docks. And although this delay in our schedule made me even more uneasy, although I knew that letting him hold me like this in public was the most foolish decision I could’ve made right now, I couldn’t help but relax into his grip and let his solidity steel my nerves one final time.

As I exhaled, Keil’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his torso. His other hand swept my hair to one side, and he nestled his head in the crook of my neck. His soft lips brushed against me there—slow, restrained—his long inhale dragging the warmth from my skin.

I settled my hand on the forearm he’d locked around me. Holden would be here soon. As much as we might have needed to find strength in one another right now, this wasn’t safe.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered. My gloved fingers bunched in his shirt, where the white fabric created a bright sash along my middle, contrasting with the black of my dress.

No, not black. In the light, I could now see that the dress’s true color was a rich blue. The darkest indigo I’d ever seen.

But it wasn’t until Keil’s arm shifted around me, his mouth trailing higher up the side of my neck, that I noticed the pattern sprawling across the skirt, embroidered in the same dark thread:

Hundreds of roses, wound with thorns.

My blood rushed up—a raw, animal fear pinning me to the spot as those soft lips grazed the shell of my ear.

“I know.” Erik’s voice rumbled against me, lashing me with goose bumps. “But I couldn’t let you get away.”

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