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The jar against my stomach was even warmer now that there was only the simple shift as a barrier between it and my skin. I took in the jar Amaria’d brought in, the flame licking the sides of glass without ever curling over the open lip.

Something heavy settled in my stomach, very similar to awe.

Real, true magic.

How was I supposed to go back to dealing with belligerent men at midnight every Thursday knowing that a place like this—that legitimate magic—existed? For a moment, the flame burned brighter, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. Then I shoved the question down and let my eyes close even though sleep evaded me.

Some time later, there was a rap on the door. Shelby rose from the sofa, her feet nearly silent on the wooden floor. There was soft murmuring, too indistinct for the translation spell to pick up, and then the soft thud of a heavy bowl or plate being set on a surface.

Someone I’d not heard before said, “If you need anything else⁠—”

“We’ll make sure to let you know,” Amaria said with renewed warmth in her voice. “Thank you so much.”

The door closed and the house dropped into quiet again. I tried to find the motivation to sit up and eat, but it evaded me. Instead, that almost-sleep haze started to settle in at the edges of my mind.

Shelby whispered, “Perhaps… perhaps it’s a good thing that she’ll return to her Arizona.”

The small scratching of fabric disappeared.

“Why?” Amaria asked. “Callum very clearly cares for her after only a few short days. Just like my parents describe their travel home. Vincent said he’s never seen Callum respond to a person like this.”

That messy longing grew heavier, weighing down my chest and making it difficult to breathe.

“Because,” Shelby said, even quieter, “she would be hated. She is smart and kind and resilient, and those in the court would not be able to see past how much she looks like the Alholím. They would reject her before they could see how she treats us all regardless of our ranks within the court.”

Alholím? What had they done to make an entire kingdom’s court fear and hate them?

There was a heavy sigh. “That’s probably true. Perhaps some would be more openminded, those close with Elise and Hugh who would be able to hear their experiences traveling with her. But… you’re probably right that most would see her black hair and gray eyes and decide she couldn’t be trusted.”

Whatever Shelby started to say was cut off by the door opening again.

21

CALLUM

My entire body sagged with exhaustion, even my magic settling deep into my bones, unwilling to even brighten the fire jar in my hand. My hair was a tangled mess, pulled back with a leather tie to keep it from clinging to my neck anymore. The dried blood under my nails itched as did my forearm. I needed a chance to clean the wounds left by the urgul, needed to eat something other than the small bit of travel rations Vincent had thought to keep packed in his saddlebag, needed to make sure Amethyst had settled in well enough while I wasn’t here.

And then I had to grapple with the fact her translation spell—in addition to not granting her all the languages expected within the Rite’s tradition—had been laid incorrectly and was causing her active pain. Pain that might be permanent, though Reuben wouldn’t know until the spell had been fixed. A correction which may not even be possible because she would no longer be mine once we were in Starguard.

A growl rose at that thought, and my entire body shook under the new wave of possessive need burning through me. Sweet Freia, I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with all of those instincts at the moment. I breathed carefully through my nose, glancing up at the sky, finding the trio of stars just above the horizon. The prayer rose unprompted, and though I didn’t give it voice, the need to tear down the door and covet Amethyst slowly faded until I could turn the door’s handle without risking it breaking.

Soft murmuring cut off as the heavy wooden door eased open.

Warm, bright light emanated from the innkeeper’s living room. My gaze immediately landed on her, curled up on her side, her cloak and my sweater skewed enough to show a thin band of the basic shift she wore underneath. My scent pulsed out from me, my body already stringing tight again.

Well, getting cleaned up was going to have to wait.

Amaria glanced up from where she perched in the chair closest to the sofa, twisting until she faced me completely. Shelby set down the bit of clothing she was efficiently rolling, setting it atop one of her own saddlebags.

“Why are you not sleeping?” I asked, dropping the large bags I’d brought from the main inn to the floor around my feet. There was more gravel in my tone than intended. Shelby’s cheeks flushed, but Amaria didn’t seem bothered. Maybe she could tell the frustration bleeding into the words had nothing to do with both women who had effortlessly stepped into their roles.

Roles that wouldn’t exist in another week.

I pushed the thought away before I lost my control again. Instead, I returned my focus to Amethyst. The pale pink was in her cheeks and the cuts that had marred her skin were gone entirely. Reuben must have healed them while evaluating her lingering head pain when they arrived at the inn. Her lips were chapped, though, and the hand holding the fire jar to her stomach showed nails that had been torn and split.

I closed the door and took a step closer, unable to resist the draw of her.

“Is there something wrong with Amethyst?”