Hadrian was right. He should quit and take her away somewhere, perhaps get a small bit of land where they could raise a family. Somewhere quiet where no one knew Gwen as a prostitute or him as a thief. They could even go to Avempartha, that ancient citadel of his people. The tower stood vacant, far beyond the reaches of anyone who did not know its secrets, and would likely remain that way indefinitely. The thought was appealing, but he pushed it back, telling himself he would revisit it soon. For now, he had people waiting, which brought his mind back to Hadrian.

“I suppose I could look into Esrahaddon’s story. Hadrian would be a fool for dedicating his life to someone else’s dream, but at least I’d know it was genuine and not some kind of wizard’s trick.”

“How can you find out?”

“Hadrian grew up in Hintindar. If his father was a Teshlor Knight, maybe he left behind some indication. At least then I would have someone else’s word instead of just Esrahaddon’s. Our job is taking us south. I could make a stop in Hintindar and see if I can find something out. By the way,” he told her gently, “I’ll be gone a good deal longer than I have been. I want you to know so you don’t worry needlessly.”

“I never worry about you,” she told him.

Royce’s face reflected his pain.

Gwen smiled. “I know you’ll return safely.”

“And how do you know this?”

“I’ve seen your hands.”

Royce looked at her, confused.

“I’ve read your palms, Royce,” she told him without a trace of humor. “Or have you forgotten I also make a living as a fortune-teller?”

Royce had not forgotten, but had assumed it was just a way of swindling the superstitious. Not until that moment did he realize how inconsistent it would be for Gwen to deceive people.

“You have a long life ahead of you,” she went on. “Too long—that was one of the clues that you weren’t completely human.”

“So I have nothing to worry about in my future?”

Gwen’s smile faded abruptly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he persisted, gently lifting her chin until she met his eyes.

“It’s just that … you need to watch out for Hadrian.”

“Did you look at his palms too?”

“No,” she said, “but your lifeline shows a fork, a point of decision. You’ll head either into darkness and despair or virtue and light. This decision will be precipitated by a traumatic event.”

“What kind of event?”

“The death of the one you love the most.”

“Then shouldn’t you be worried about yourself?”