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“He’s guarding the cellar,” Keil murmured.

“Then they must keep awfully valuable wine,” I said drily. Because if someone was defending this door on an island run through an honor system, there was definitely something behind it worth protecting.

With a shared conspiratorial glance, we strode ahead. I kept my chin high as I walked, waltzing right up to the door, reaching out to twist the handle—

And the suited man slid into my path, his expression flat.

“Table nineteen requested champagne,” I said.

He dragged his gaze to Keil. “And that requires both of you?”

“Based on the amount they requested?” I asked. “Absolutely.”

The man was narrowing his eyes when Keil moved closer, smiling.

“Eighty-eighth unit?” Keil nodded to the man’s knuckles, which I now noticed were inked with swirling tattoos that resembled Goren’s. “I was in the thirty-seventh.”

The sentry looked him over. “You fought on Paja?”

“Mostly. I did a sweep around Neyamay during my second tour.”

The sentry whistled low, the hard line of his shoulders softening. “Neyamay is a real hellscape. The first time I smelled the sulfur, I—”

“Emptied your guts,” Keil finished, laughing. “We all did. The commanders made us do laps across the battlements to steel our stomachs.”

The sentry chuckled as I mentally caught up with their conversation. Neyamay was the little island we’d passed on our way to Banarrat, and this man must have fought in the Western War.

Still smiling, Keil looped his arm around my waist. My breath caught as he tugged me flush against his side, his fingers splaying across my ribs.

“Truthfully,” he drawled, “we thought nobody would notice if we . . . sneaked off.” He finished with a slow, devious grin that left no room for ambiguity.

Blood thrummed in my cheeks, but my flustered appearance must have worked in our favor, because the sentry smirked and stood aside. “You have three minutes.”

“Three?” Keil tutted, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I would never do my lady the disservice of three.” He leaned down to whisper against my neck, the sensation bringing up a rush of goose bumps. “How does ten minutes work for you, sweetheart?”

I had just enough sense to glance up at him through heavy lashes, our mouths almost touching. “Just fine,” I breathed, and Keil’s smile broadened, his hand twitching around my waist in a way that seemed involuntary.

The sentry huffed in amusement, shaking his head. “Go in, then.”

Keil nodded in thanks—one comrade to another—then lightly tugged me ahead.

The drunken din muffled as the door shut behind us.

“Sweetheart?” I echoed.

“Yes, love?” he replied, grinning.

I elbowed him and ignored the little flip of my stomach as he chuckled and released me, leaving me abruptly cold.

Our steps thudded down a wooden staircase into the cellar where the air grew stale, barrels and bottles lining the walls.

“That’s the wall facing Holden’s office building,” Keil said, and we began our search.

Most Banarrati buildings are connected by tunnels to aid escape in the event of attack, Finbar had said. Now, as Keil shunted away a wine barrel, my pulse skipped with victory. Because, just as expected, a wooden hatch resided on this wall. A short walk later, we were climbing out through the hatch of the neighboring building.

And then creeping up a staircase straight into Holden’s private office.

The air was cool and parchment-scented, a soft glow falling across a long white desk. As Keil began scouring the drawers, my gaze drifted to the plush seating area.