“Gossip, Arin?” she said lightly, and toyed with her necklace in the dark until its fretful clicking made her let go.

“I’m looking for a Herrani servant. He’s missing.”

The memory of Thrynne welled up. Tell him. He needs to know. Those had been the tortured man’s words. “Who is he to you?” Kestrel asked.

“A friend.”

“You could ask the palace steward.”

“I’m asking you.”

She couldn’t believe it. The mere fact of Arin’s asking was so reckless. No matter that his trust didn’t extend quite so far as to admit the truth of the situation: that Thrynne had been a spy sent to gather information on the emperor, and must be assumed caught. It was nevertheless clear that Arin was the sort of person who would dash safety to pieces. No one with any sense of self-preservation would inquire after the whereabouts of his spy from the emperor’s future daughter-in-law, who had already betrayed Arin once.

But self-preservation had never been Arin’s strong suit.

What would he do with the truth of Kestrel’s engagement?

Where is my honor in all this? he’d asked her once. She didn’t know what honor was to him. She thought that it wasn’t the same as her father’s: monumental, marble-cut. No, Arin’s honor was alive. She sensed the way it moved. She couldn’t see its face—maybe it had many faces—but she believed that Arin’s honor was the kind that would hold its breath and bite its lip until it bled.

If she told Arin the truth, he’d wreck the peace she’d bought. It almost didn’t matter whether he loved her. Arin wouldn’t let someone imprison herself so that he could go free. He’d find a way to end her engagement … and she would let him.

She’d felt it before, she felt it now: the pull to fall in with him, to fall into him, to lose her sense of self.

There would be scandal, and then there’d be war.

Kestrel must keep her secret. She was going to have to lie with her whole self. She could be cold. She could be distant. Even with him.

As for Thrynne … she had a plan.

“Very well,” Kestrel said. “Tell me your friend’s name. I’ll share what I know in honor of the protection you gave me after the Firstwinter Rebellion. A Valorian remembers her debts.”

Arin stayed very still. “I hadn’t realized I had done anything that begged repayment. What I did, I did for you.”

“Precisely. So ask. I will answer. We will be even.”

“Even? If you insist on seeing things that way, you and I will never clear our debts.”

“Do you want your information or not?”

“What I want…” He muttered the words. Then his voice steadied and came clear. “My friend’s name is Thrynne. He cleans. Floors, mostly.” Arin described the man’s features.

Kestrel pretended to think. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t recall seeing someone like him.”

“Maybe if you took more time to consider—”

“Doubtful. There are hundreds of servants and slaves in the palace. How am I to know each one?”

“So you give me nothing.”

“When have I ever given you anything?”

Softly, Arin said, “You gave me much, once.”

“Well,” said Kestrel, “as cozy as this little chat has been, I’d like to get back to my party.” She stepped toward the curtain.

His movement was swift. He blocked her path, hands coming down on either side of her to brace against the balustrade. He didn’t touch her, but was close enough now that she could see the dark shape of his mouth and the angry glimmer of his eyes. He said, “That’s not all I came for.”

She could smell the sea on his skin, stronger now: salty and sharp.

“Kestrel, this isn’t you.”

She pressed back against the chill glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“This voice you’ve been using, that bright one … do you think I don’t recognize it? It’s the sound of you laying a trap. Of you hiding behind your own words. And I know that the way you’ve been talking is not you. Say what you want about me, about what happened between us, about the shape of the sun and the color of the grass and any other truths in this world you want to deny. Deny everything until the gods strike you down. But you can’t say that I don’t know you.” He was now close enough that the air between them was alive against Kestrel’s skin. “I … have thought about you.” His voice dropped. “I have thought about how I have never known you to be dishonest with me.”

Kestrel’s laugh was robbed of breath. It was short, incredulous.

“Let me rephrase that,” Arin said. “You may have tricked me. But you were true to yourself. Sometimes even to me. You have never been false.”

“Are you forgetting that I sent my father’s army to crush yours?”

“I knew you would. You knew that I knew. Where is the lie? I’ve never felt that there was a lie on your lips. Please, Kestrel. Please. Don’t lie.”

She gripped the cold stone of the balustrade’s railing.

He said, “Do you know anything about Thrynne?”

“No. Now let me pass.”

“I’m not done. Kestrel … do you really want to marry the prince?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”

“Want and need aren’t the same.” His mouth hovered near hers. “Tell me. Is this engagement really your choice? Because I don’t believe it. Not unless I hear you say so.”