Ronan guided them to one of the long, communal tables. As they knelt on coarse pallets, the innkeeper’s wife came out. She paused and gave Ronan a hard look. The serving girl snickered as she laid down their bowls of rice and pork.

“Are we doing something wrong?” Ashyn whispered when they were gone.

“Not at all.”

She looked back at the girl, whispering to the woman, who was now favoring Ashyn with that hard look. “What did you tell them when we arrived?”

“Only that my brother and I needed rooms for ourselves and our sisters.”

“Sister?” she sputtered. “I no more resemble you than Gavril does. They’re going to think . . .” She stared at him. “They think we’re lovers.”

Now it was Ronan sputtering as he laughed. “I would take more offense at your expression if it was not so adorable, Ash.”

Ash? He’s never called me— She pushed the thought aside, refusing to be distracted. “You let them believe—”

“Yes, because that is the best explanation for two young men and two young women to be on the road, and it’s the one they’d likely arrive at whatever our story. Would you rather deny it and make them wonder who you truly are?”

“Oh.” She settled back on her heels. “I suppose—”

“That I was correct in doing so, however much the implications might embarrass you?” He grinned, leaned forward, and whispered. “It’s a good thing you were not taken to that harem. It’s not just blades you require lessons in, is it? I would happily offer instruction in that as well if . . .” He trailed off, still smiling. “I’ll stop before your face lights on fire. Drink some water. Just don’t choke on it.”

She was indeed blushing furiously. Furious, too, with him for teasing her, and with herself for reacting. Like a child, she thought. I’m sixteen summers. Out here, in the real empire, I would be a woman now.

I am a woman. The Seeker.

Not like that. She’d be more mature, perhaps no more experienced with men, but at least not blushing and stammering when the subject was raised.

“I apologize,” Ronan said. “I was only teasing.”

The apology only stung all the more, erasing any doubt that she’d reacted like a child.

I don’t want you to see me as a child.

“I forget sometimes that you’re a highborn girl,” he said.

“I’m not highborn. My family is—”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever your family’s caste was, you’ve been raised above that. I ought not treat you like a normal girl.”

“But I am—”

“I don’t mean that as it sounded.” He sighed and pushed back from the table. “I’m making a mess of this. I only meant to apologize if I sometimes forget my place.”

“You don’t have a place, Ronan. Not with me.”