“I was worried for you,” Nomi said, and every time she had thought of her betrayal since it happened, that was what she tried to tell herself. The Poison Forests were a dangerous place, barely traveled and mysterious. Of the people who had gone in there, more had gone missing than returned.

But it was also one of the great prizes of voyaging. And Ramus's take on such a journey—a mapping of the outskirts, classification of plants and animals into differing poison strengths, the collection of samples that could allow potential cures to be created—had won the Guild over.

Her reaction to that, thought but never spoken, had been, It should have been me.

“I thank you for your concern, friend,” Ramus said, and never had that word been spoken with such venom. “So how did you persuade Marquella to embargo the plan? A word in his ear, a promise of a lifetime's supply of Ventgorian wine? Or did you just suck his cock?”

Nomi lashed out. She missed, her hand skimming Ramus's shoulder, and it was only then that she realized she was crying. The tears caught light from the fire and fractured her vision, and she turned away from Ramus and faced out into the night.

“How pissing dare you even suggest that,” she said. “I never laid a finger on Marquella, and he never touched me.” She wiped the tears from her face and spun around to face Ramus again. Her voice was low, and it came from somewhere deeper and darker than normal. “You piece of shit, Ramus. How fuckingdare you?”

“How dare I?” His face changed a little when he saw her tears, and she was certain there was a hint of regret. But regret can only go so far. And once some things are said, there is no unsaying them.

“You're right,” Nomi said. “I didn't want you to go on that voyage. What we're doing here, now, is what I've wanted for a long time. To share in discovery. Why do you think I came to you with Ten's parchment, and not the Guild? I know I can learn from you, and I was hoping . . . hoping that you could learn from me.”

“What could I ever learn from you?”

“I know I don't read books or understand the old languages, but at least I live a little.”

“Live a little?”

“Yes! And there's nothing wrong with that, either. I don't bury myself away in Long Marrakash between voyages, sulking in my rooms, wishing I were greater than I really am. I enjoy myself, Ramus. You should try it one day. You're pathetic!”

Ramus smiled. “Well, so you live a little. But that's not the end of it. Marquella was only the beginning.”

Nomi went cold. A chill passed through her, resistant to the fire and the flames burning in her chest, anger and shame and . . . fear. Ramus had her scared. And a large part of that fear was because of things she had yet to tell.