Chapter 7 · The Envoy's Dirty Deal

Wantang made it back to the guest wing just before dawn, the vial tucked inside her sleeve. Her pulse hadn't slowed since the cellar. She pushed through the door and froze.

Rowan was standing in the middle of the room, hands braced on the back of a chair. His coat was half-unbuttoned, his hair a mess. He looked like he'd been pacing for hours.

He turned. His eyes went straight to her face, then dropped to the dust on her skirt, the scrape on her wrist.

"Where the hell were you."

Not a question. An accusation.

Wantang closed the door behind her and locked it. "Getting proof."

"They told me you were resting." His voice was flat, dangerous. "I had to bribe two guards just to get out of that room. I thought—"

He stopped himself. His jaw worked.

"You thought what?" She pulled the vial out and set it on the table between them. "That I ran? That I left you holding the bag?"

Rowan stared at the vial. Then at her.

"I thought they took you," he said quietly. "I thought Sephra moved early and I was too late."

Something in her chest twisted. She shoved it down.