Brennan sat opposite, mouth twisted all awry. Chartji whistled softly. Rory still stood out in the courtyard, looking toward the archway.

The cold mage reappeared carrying the laced-up basket with the skull, as well as a leather bag. He crossed the courtyard as the watching trolls went back to their conversations. The light drenching his figure turned to shade as he came in under the portico. He set basket and bag on the table, then backed away to stand with arms crossed, staring into the distance. Bee simmered, looking ready to leap up and slap him again. Brennan studied him with a frown, while Kehinde pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose and watched me. Chartji waited beside the table. A few people moved past, staring at his expensive clothes and grim expression. He ignored everyone, yet I knew he was acutely aware of all of us. I was astonished he exposed himself to their censure.

He shifted, and we all started. Upon opening his mouth to speak, he closed it again.

After a moment he bowed his head and drew thumb and finger down the bridge of his nose. Finally he looked up. The tilt of his head and the rigid squareness of his shoulders revealed how hard he struggled to dig for words.

He let out a breath. “Might there be a private room where Catherine and I could talk?”

My cheeks were hot and my hands were cold, for I had not recovered from seeing him walk away, nor did I like the look of him bringing along the basket as if he meant to be rid of all reminders and encumbrances of me.

To my surprise Kehinde rose. Hers was not a large or boisterous figure, but when she wanted to, she commanded any space she was in. She bent her gaze on him, and because she was a woman older than he was, he listened, lifting his chin as if he knew he was about to take a hit.

“I do not know you, Magister. But if it were up to me, I would tell Cat she is well rid of a man who speaks to her in such a contemptuous way. Was it imprudent and disruptive of her to leave the mage House so precipitously? Perhaps. But I am thinking you would be better served to discover why you did not pay more attention to her grievances before it came to this.”

His expression darkened with an angry flush, but to my astonishment he took in and released several ragged breaths without any hammer of magic. With an effort he spoke again, clipped and impatient. “What must I do to be allowed to have a few private words with my wife?”

Kehinde indicated the table. “While I consider, perhaps you would like something to eat or drink.”