I shift. I’ve felt on my heels since I walked into this room. All I can do is stare at the blood rapidly dripping from her arm to pool on the floor. I should be horrified that her father cut her without any warning, but I’m more disturbed by the fact that she didn’t even flinch.

She holds her arm out to me, and a hot rage swells in my chest at their presumption. Her father doesn’t even know what kind of mender I am, yet he was willing to gamble that I could fix it quickly.

An uncomfortable feeling, something like sympathy, twists in my stomach.

This could all be a carefully choreographed game to prey on my sympathies. I know better than to expect not to be tested. After last night, I can’t put any of this past her.

Harlow steps closer, and the heady scent of her skin hits me like a blow, mingling with the iron smell of blood.

I place my palm over her bloody wound. Her skin is warm and sticky and her pulse pounds.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

“No,” she says.

The burning ache that she’s trying very hard not to react to is so sharp it feels like my arm is wounded.

I click my tongue. “Lying again, lovely? Shame on you. It doesn’t matter, though, because I can feel it.”

Her gaze goes far away.

“Harlow?”

Her eyes remain unfocused, like she’s looking through me. I push my power into her, and she winces as the tingling, itching sensation hits her skin.

“It will pass in a second,” I say.

She clenches her jaw as the last edge of the cut knits together. I know that overwhelming itch. She sighs as I pull out a handkerchief and wipe away the blood to reveal flawless skin again.

“Remarkable,” Liza says. “You’d never even know she was cut.”

For a moment, I forget to speak. Neither of her parents looks remotely concerned about whether Harlow is still in pain. I suppose it’s not a surprise since they just watched a man die without batting an eye. Still, I thought maybe they’d show more concern for their own daughter.

I meet Harlow’s eyes. “The pain takes longer to abate, but it will.”

Liza steps closer. “Does it work as well on sickness? Ailments of the mind?”

I frown at her. “Can’t say I’ve had much opportunity to work on ailments of the mind, but I do well enough with fevers.”

“What happens now?” Harlow asks.

“Now you’ll have time for formal courting here in Lunameade, culminating in an engagement party,” Harrick says. “Then you’ll go back to Mountain Haven for the wedding. I understand that they have their own customs. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to attend with all our duties in the city.”

Harlow nods. She looks so calm, her assessing gaze passing over me, like she’s entirely unconcerned about marrying me.

I want to ruffle her. She tried to kill me, and I want to know why.

“Well, we will leave you all to get settled in,” Liza says, gesturing toward the door.

“I’d love to start getting to know my lovely fiancée now if she’d be willing to take a stroll around the garden,” I say, extending a hand toward Harlow.

The entire group freezes, but the request has the desired effect.

Harlow’s gaze darts to her parents before coming back to rest on me. “Now?”

I smile. “Why not? It’s a glorious day and I’m eager to get to know my bride.”

Her eyes narrow. Maybe I have a death wish, but I like that I’ve finally caught her off guard. This is a test to see if she’ll push back. I want to know how desperate her family is for this alliance.

She purses her lips. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

I hold out my elbow, which she reluctantly takes. “Lead the way, lovely.”

We walk out of the room, and a burly-looking man in dark clothes falls into step behind us, his boots clicking against the floor. I try to ignore him as Harlow leads me through the long hallway and out into bright sunlight.

The patio is lined with planters brimming with flowers. It has to be magic keeping them in bloom so late in the season.

Stones crunch beneath our feet as we walk down the short trail into the garden. The whole ride to the city, the forest was barren, nature preparing for winter by shedding leaves and blooms and drawing energy inward, but here, safe inside the city walls, the Carrenwells are so well-resourced they can spend magic keeping their garden blooming like it’s spring.

Harlow leads me toward the tall, leafy walls of a hedge maze, and I stumble a step, wondering if she’s leading me into some kind of trap.

She waits until we clear the maze border to speak. “Are you enjoying your time in Lunameade? Have you taken in the sights? I must admit I’m relieved to see that you can walk on two legs.” Her tone is suddenly as pleasant as the sunshine. It’s more unnerving than her staring daggers at me earlier.

I want to demand answers, but I’ll play her game for now, because the longer I drag this out, the more agitated she’ll be.

“I passed through North Hold, but I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of sightseeing, not that I would have wanted to see the manor. It’s awfully grim-looking.”

She flinches. “My sister, Aidia, lives there. Did you see her?”

I shake my head. “We didn’t even visit the manor. Just passed through the gates. Why? Are you close?”

She pauses and narrows her eyes at me. “You’re awfully nosy.”

“So strange that I’m curious about the woman who tried to kill me?”

She pauses on the trail and turns toward me. “What happened—it’s not what it seems. And please keep your voice down.” She casts a meaningful glance at her guard, looming like a shadow behind us.

I lean closer, and she holds perfectly still. “Does he not know his charge is a merry murderess who sneaks out on her own at night to try to start a war between families?”

She glares at me as I run a lock of her hair between my fingers.

“He can’t be very good at his job if he doesn’t,” I continue. “How often do you do it? Is it weekly, or more of a nightly thing? Just wondering what kind of body count my beloved has stacked up.”

She swats my hand away. “It’s none of your business how often or why I do what I do.”

“It is if you’re coming to live amongst my people. They’ve already been through enough,” I snap.

The guard behind us clears his throat.

“You’re dismissed,” I say, waving a hand at him.

An amused smirk ghosts over his weathered face. “I’m here at Miss Carrenwell’s discretion.”

I’m guessing he’s got to have a good twenty years on me. He looks like he’s in his fifties, but I can tell he’s still fearsome. He has the trained stillness of an experienced fighter, and I’m not about to test him this early on—not when he’s already so wary of me. Part of training is learning to assess a threat, and despite his age, he wouldn’t be guarding a Carrenwell if he weren’t formidable.

Harlow turns to the guard. “You’re dismissed, Gaven. I’m more than capable of handling one brute.”

“One hour,” Gaven says.

The bodyguard’s tone is more fatherly than Harrick’s. He waits for Harlow to nod before he turns and disappears down the path toward the house.

“He seems fond of you,” I say.

“He’s paid, Henry. He’s fond of money.” She laughs.

Her pragmatism is unexpected.

“How did you do it?” she asks.

“Do what?” I ask.

“Hide your aura. I would have known—well, maybe not who you were, but what you were.”

I choke out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re upset that I hid my magic from you, after you tried to murder me? That alone would be enough to start a war, you know?”

“How did you do it?”

I consider not telling her, but I need her to play somewhat nice for now. My plan hasn’t changed; I just need a new strategy, because she’s not a wilting city flower—she’s a murderous snake.

I pull my ring out of my pocket and lift my hand. Holding her gaze, I slide it onto my finger, and she frowns.