would have been before the ball, but she could feel sadness in him like a toothache. It was for her, this sadness. She didn’t think he’d feel so bad for her if he knew what she’d signed him up for. “I promise you, I will do everything I can to make you happy, forever. And I hate that I can’t just tell you to go forth and rejoice. But you can’t trust Firo. You know you can’t. I can feel it in you every time I say his name.”
She didn’t say anything.
“None of the courtiers are trustworthy. They all have agendas. But I can list any number of dumb, good-looking boys who’d throw themselves at your feet if they thought it would get them in good with me. And if I were to make a list of courtiers I’d recommend you avoid, Firo would be at the top of it. He’s lost a lot of power, politically, since the whole mess with Tevala, but he’s still got a hook in every fish inside the Wall.” He sounded like a tutor, explaining something to a recalcitrant child, and she could not help bristling. “And frankly, he’s spent the last twenty years going after every young lord with a pretty face. So for him to suddenly become interested in you—”
She yanked her hand back. “Go hang.”
“I don’t mean it’s surprising for somebody to be interested in you, you know I don’t mean that. But he’s only been with men, Jude, and lots of them. He did marry that woman back in Cerrington, because he’s obligated to have an heir, but he didn’t stay long enough to actually meet his son. He didn’t even go back when she died.”
“Maybe I know all this,” she said. “Maybe I’m quick enough to realize that there’s only one reason somebody like Firo would be interested in me. Maybe I don’t care.”
“So maybe you’ll tell me what you think that reason is.”
“You already said it. He wants to go through me to get to you.” Then she pretended to consider. “But not for sex, I don’t think. At least, he’s never mentioned you that way.”
“You’re teasing,” Gavin said. “That’s fine. Tease me all you want. Just promise me you’ll keep your eyes open.”
“Fine. I’ll keep my eyes open.” It would be an easy enough promise to keep, since her relationship with Firo was entirely fictional.
“You have to be careful.” He took her hand again. “Elban let us go once, but—” He didn’t finish the sentence. Probably because he thought he didn’t need to, and he didn’t, but not for the reasons he had in mind. Elban hadn’t let them go at all. By the time the city was Gavin’s, he would be scarred inside and out. It would be Judah’s fault. Probably he would hate her for it. She knew this. He didn’t.
Gavin’s obvious concern, though, was enough to make her spend the next morning searching, single-mindedly and methodically, for Firo. She found him in the solarium, a letter open on his lap. “Hello, foundling,” he said, unreadable as always. “How lovely to see you.”
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not ending things. I’ve so enjoyed our dalliance.”
The rumors had reached him, too, then. Every courtier left in the House seemed to be in the solarium; she assumed they were watching without bothering to check. “As you like.”
“Any way I like?” His voice was mocking. Then, more quietly, “Smile, darling. This is a lover’s meeting.”
She didn’t respond. He folded the letter and slid it into an inner pocket of his coat. Then he stood up. “I was about to visit the baths. Join me?”
He extended an arm. She suppressed her distaste and took it, allowing herself to be led out of the solarium, through the corridors and main hall, down to the bathing rooms. People they passed watched them curiously, even those who pretended not to. When they came to an empty bathing room, he opened the heavy wooden door for her, and locked it behind them. The air inside was damp and fragrant. Firo dropped her arm unceremoniously, took off his coat and began to unfasten his boots.
Alarmed, Judah said, “You’re actually bathing.”
“I am. I enjoy baths.” There was a wardrobe in each bathing room. He put his boots in the bottom of it, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Also, there are signs, you know. Pink cheeks. Shriveled fingers. A freshly-pressed look to clothes that have been hanging, unoccupied, in