Ash shakes his head and I allow myself a real laugh at his indignation. I slip my hand into his nonbandaged one, mostly because I want to remember walking down this jaw-dropping street with him, but also so I don’t walk into anything while I’m craning my neck.

For just an instant, he tenses, and I realize that holding hands probably isn’t a Strategia thing. I remember how aggressively Layla reacted the first time I stopped her in the hallway by grabbing her arm. She almost leveled me on the spot. But a half second later, Ash relaxes and his fingers curl around mine, pulling me close by his side.

“You’re the perfect tourist,” he says with a smile.

“Damn right I am. Remind me to insist that you take me traveling for fun when this is all over,” I say.

“Strategia don’t typically travel for fun. We travel with purpose,” Ash replies, not like he’s trying to shut me down, but like he’s never really considered the idea before.

“Then you’re seriously missing out,” I say.

“The more time I spend with you, the more I believe that,” Ash says, and there is something genuine in his voice that makes my heart swell. I squeeze his hand. But as sweet as he’s being with me, he’s equally hawkish in the way he eyes the street and the pedestrians. Then I remember—Ash said most Strategia live in cities. And just like that, my moment of delight is replaced by suspicion.

I immediately question my surroundings: the woman who stares for a second too long from the bakery window. The man walking a poodle—is he holding the dog’s leash tighter than necessary? A young guy selling umbrellas, which could easily be used to conceal a thin blade. Ash said that after what happened with Logan, we would be constantly looking over our shoulders; I just didn’t realize how literal he was being.

Ash stops in front of an impressive stone building that looks like something that once belonged to an earl or dignitary. Above the door reads CENTRAL LIBRARY and carved into the stone are the words LET THERE BE LIGHT.

I look at Ash, surprised. “A library?”

“This won’t take long,” he says, and I give him a questioning look. It’s strange that he held back telling me we were coming here, but maybe he’s suffering from lack of internet access and needs to look something up? Although I’m not sure Strategia actually care about being online; my friends at home would be baffled by the concept.

“About London,” I say, now wondering if he omitted any other parts of our itinerary. “Are we stopping anywhere else along the way or are we heading straight there?”