“Worry about yourself, my lord.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Imeria was more than some lovesick girl, and she’d been playing these games far longer than Datu Gulod realized. Whatever he came here for, if he gave her one reason not to trust him, she’d eat him alive too.

He leaned back, hearing the warning in her tone, and cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you soon to enjoy the tournament. But first, I’d be honored if you could open my gift.” From the inner pocket of his vest, Datu Gulod retrieved a small box of smooth, unfinished mahogany. He pressed it into her hands.

Curious, Imeria lifted the lid. Inside, on a thin bed of velvet, lay a golden hair comb inlaid with drops of pearl and jade. “How beautiful,” she said, almost in the form of a question. The comb was beautiful. Why he had given it to her, Imeria couldn’t begin to guess.

Gulod stared at her. She caught a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Go on then,” he said in a slow, careful whisper. “Take a closer look.”

She reached into the box to pick up the comb. When she touched it, the velvet underneath shifted to reveal something hard and thin. Imeria glanced up at Gulod, who nodded almost imperceptibly. With featherlight fingers, she lifted the velvet and found a tiny trio of vials, each containing white crystals as fine as sand. Imeria’s heartbeat quickened, and she pulled the velvet back up before anyone could see.

Gulod lifted the comb from the box. “May I?”

Wordlessly, Imeria nodded and turned to the side. He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back⁠—far too intimate a gesture for a place like this. Heads turned toward them as the nobles, seated in the stands to their right, took notice. Imeria willed herself not to scowl at the rising chorus of titters.

Gulod leaned forward, easing the comb through her silky strands, his breath hot against her ear. “Precioso from the west. A pain in the ass to procure, but I thought a lot about what you said,” he whispered.

Ah. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She’d mentioned precioso when Gulod had visited her in the south last season. From what she understood, it was a fickle substance; few souls on earth knew how to produce a mediocre sample, much less at the quality she desired. Precioso was illegal in Maynara, but that was just as well. Gulod was a clever man, and smuggling was his singular talent. He was known to accept delicate requests, and he didn’t even ask what she needed it for. The promise of payment was good enough for him.