“I’ll try. But sometimes I wonder if maybe I have more faith in your skills than you do in mine, even after all this time.”

“Oh, Alec! I know that you can take care of yourself. I do, really. Now …” Seregil gently cradled the back of Alec’s head and kissed him. “Are we going to make love or have a fight? Personally, I don’t want to fight.”

Alec’s lips quirked in a half smile as he turned in Seregil’s arms and kissed him back. “Then that only leaves one other choice.”

Their lovemaking that night was fierce and full of need. Surging and tumbling, each got as good as he gave, leaving a few fingertip-shaped bruises and teeth marks in their wake. Afterward, they fell away from each other, sweaty and winded. A rare night breeze wafted in through the open window; cooled, Seregil rolled over and lay with his head pillowed on Alec’s smooth chest as Alec lazily stroked his hair the way that made him feel especially content. Seregil kissed the warm skin over his lover’s heart, savoring the salty taste and strong pulse beneath his lips.

If you die, I won’t be far behind.

Some emotions and thoughts traveled over the talímenios bond more clearly than others, or perhaps Alec knew him too well. Gently tugging a strand of Seregil’s hair, he murmured, “I’d wait for you at Bilairy’s Gate. Now stop worrying. I love you.”

“I love you, too, talí.”

They waited well past midnight, then stole back to Kyrin’s house in dark clothing. Retracing Alec’s previous route, they made it to the library window without trouble. Seregil opened the inside latch with a thin lime-wood shim.

Alec retrieved all the documents he’d found and they laid them out on the carpet, then held them one by one in front of the lightstones and one by one discarded them until they came to the scroll. Alec unrolled it and held it up for Seregil, who had the stone. Tiny points of light shone through the parchment like miniature constellations.

“What does it say?” Alec whispered.

Seregil squinted at the letters for a moment, then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It’s in Aurënfaie.” Seregil scanned the page, muttering under his breath. “Dark moon with the tide. Twenty-five. More?”

“More what?”

“Who knows? But ‘dark moon’—perhaps the traitor’s moon—and ‘tide’ suggest smuggling to me.”

Alec nodded excitedly. “That and the manifests!”

“Sounds like our marquis is stockpiling valuables. The question is, why?”

“It must have something to do with that list of names.”

“Very likely.”

Putting the room back in order, they went out the way they came in and headed back to the inn.