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“I wish you could, but it’s not safe. Your appearance is too recognizable, and we already know there’s a bounty out for us. It’s best if you stay here and out of sight.”

Pursing my lips, I struggled not to argue. He was right. I was in Rune’s body, and we didn’t need to attract attention. But that didn’t mean I liked it. I managed a curt nod, averting my gaze. Maybe I’d find a way…

“We’ll be fine,” Sharlyne said beside me, tugging my hand.

That didn’t seem to assuage Rivven’s concern. But he forced a smile and planted a chaste kiss on the top of my head. I watched him leave, a little piece of my heart going with him. As soon as he was out of sight, Sharlyne yanked me toward the kitchen door where she leaned around the threshold and reappeared with two cloaks in her arms.

“Put this on and pull up the hood. No one will know who you are if you cover your hair.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

I raised an eyebrow, which felt odd in this body, and threw the dark cloak over my shoulders, pulling the hood up and over, obscuring most of my face.

“Perfect,” she exclaimed, doing the same. Then she grabbed my hand again and dragged me toward the exit.

“Where are we going?” I asked amused.

“To the houseboat,” she said, and increased our pace as we descended the hill toward the docks. The fresh breeze from the ocean tickled my nostrils, bringing back memories of the short time I’d had in Rivven’s homeland before the Imrati. Memories flashed in my mind as we continued past old, weathered buildings and occasional passersby. No one seemed to pay us any mind, all too consumed in their own thoughts with heads bowed and steps purposeful.

When we reached the small dock with Rivven’s houseboat swaying at the end, I recalled the first time I’d been there and had walked in on him in the shower—I’d frozen in place, still angry with him but stunned by his beauty. My heart had known what my mind was too stubborn to figure out yet. That he could never hurt me or anyone I loved, and that he was just trying to do the right thing. Always trying to do right.

I bit my lip as Sharlyne scouted to be sure no one was watching. Then we leaped over the chasm between dock and deck and descended into the small living quarters. She waved a hand and the lantern near the table lit with flame, warming the dark space.

It looked like he’d just left it. The bunk beds—top unmade and blanket dangling over the side, Rivven’s trunk—open with clothing spilling out. And the small table—still covered with parchment, where he’d sat, looking too big for the small chairs.

Sharlyne took one of those same seats now, beckoning me to the other. She leaned across the table with elbows digging into whatever maps or plans he’d worked on when he last sat here.

“Thanks for this,” I said, relaxing back on the wooden seat. “I wouldn’t have thought to come here myself, and it…” I looked around. “It’s nice.”

Sharlyne grinned. “I thought it might be. I also thought you might have questions.”

I sighed, leaning toward her, hands in my lap. “You mean because you’re a seer? Our last meeting didn’t really help—no offense.” I recalled the fortune telling card that had shown the same fate as when Balram had won the Imrati. The way the lovers were separated on it made sense in retrospect. And Sharlyne had been right that if I hadn’t been there, Rivven would have died. I’d saved him with the boon Serano had gifted me in the hopes I’d join him in trying to overthrow the king. But she’d also been right about my not exactly making it out unscathed. Not quite dead, though. More like in limbo, without a body and unsure what I really was.

“Sorry about that,” Sharlyne said softly. “I can’t help what comes through. I wish it were always good news. But it hardly ever is.”

I shrugged. “It’s not your fault. It’s life, I suppose.”

“Still, it would be nice to give a good fortune for once.” She laughed a little. “You deserve it. Riv deserves it.”

“You two are very close. It must have been so hard without your parents. To think, you’d been so close to the throne and then to be exiled.” I shook my head. Balram’s handiwork.

“Oh, I was never in line to rule, thank goodness,” Sharlyne corrected, and I looked up. “Rivven is the sole heir to the Tromodian throne. He was still in our mother’s belly when his father was assassinated.”

“But—”

She shook her head, sinking down a few inches. “They’d been on the run for a few years already. Miyal had managed to find refuge at a large estate outside of Gahair’s borders. It belonged to my father, a wealthy trader.”

“You mean she remarried?” I asked, confused as to why Rivven never mentioned this. Or what had become of Sharlyne’s father.

“No,” the half-elf snorted. “No. He’d demanded payment in return for hiding her and her son. And she was desperate enough to be fine with it,” she added when I recoiled. “Until she found out he was planning on selling Riv to the slave trade. That pissed her off.”

“I imagine it would,” I agreed as my own face flushed with anger at the idea of a small, helpless boy and a desperate woman being treated that way.

“They ran in the middle of the night, but I was already conceived,” Sharlyne continued. “Neither Rivven nor Miyal ever treated me with anything less than love.”

“But what of the trader, your father?” I probed, unable to help myself.

“I found out years later that he was discovered dead after my mother fled with Riv. I’m sort of relieved to be honest. I don’t much like the idea of being related to someone like that.”

Reaching across the small table, I took her hand in mine and squeezed. I knew that feeling, even though Balram hadn’t turned out to be my father. I’d thought he was for most of my life, and that had brought me no end of shame and horror. “Did Rivven…” I let my voice trail off. It seemed like something he would do, to kill in order to avenge the honor of his mother.