Silent, I forced my arms to relax at my sides, the silk of my dress whispering.

“This isn’t good,” Trent said so softly I barely heard him.

“You think?”

A silence grew, not companionable, but not uncomfortable, either. The news teams seemed to be packing it up, and the I.S. operatives were getting noisy, a last-ditch effort to get the cameras on them before they left. I looked at Trent’s jiggling foot and raised my eyebrows.

Grimacing, Trent stopped fidgeting. “You look nice tonight,” he said, surprising me. “I can’t decide if I like your hair more up or down.”

Flushing, I touched the loose braid Jenks’s kids had put my hair in, still damp from the mist. “Thanks.”

“So did you and Quen have a nice dinner?” he asked, pushing me even more mentally off balance. “Carew Tower, yes?”

“As a matter of fact, it was drinks at the bar, but yes, it was Carew Tower.” Flustered, I gripped my clutch bag tighter. “How did you guess?”

His feet scuffed, the small move telling me he was satisfied—and yet still ticked. “You smell like damaged brass. It was either Carew Tower or the deli down on Vine. The one with the old bar footrest?”

I blinked, lips parting. Wow. “Oh,” I said, trying to decide what I could say. “Yes. We were at Carew Tower.” I looked down at my dress, clearly not suitable for a deli.

Trent moved to stand next to me, so near I could smell his aftershave under the broken-green smell of him. Together we watched the newscaster finish her interview with a nurse, and him being that close was almost worse than his accusing stare. “You were discussing me,” he said, his voice a shade high, his attention fixed determinedly across the room. The scent of spoiled wine and cinnamon joined the mix.

“Quen asked me to fill in for him when your schedules don’t mesh,” I said. “He knows you’re planning the conflicts—did you think he would do nothing?”

His eye twitched, that’s it, but I could see right through it. “Give the man a break,” I said, and he finally gave up his false indifference to glare at me. “Quen cross-checked your prom date and took you to the DMV office for your license. He worries about you, okay?”

Unwilling to believe, Trent frowned. I could feel the reporters watching. His eyes flicked to them and slowly his hands unclenched. Exhaling, he forced a fake smile, but I didn’t think he was fooling anyone now. He was ready to walk, and I took his elbow.