“Indeed, why.” Her shrug was extravagant, her long hands unfurling as if flicking away water after washing. Her black eyes strayed from mine to the wall. I had the impression that I had vanished, or diminished. I felt the impulse to apologize but sensed that the apology might grate more than the mistake, which seemed less to offend than to disappoint her, as though I had become suddenly far less intriguing. There was a pain in my chest, small and sharp as the snap of fingers.

It wasn’t normal to feel pain at any of this.

It wasn’t normal to feel drawn to her—not in the way I now knew I had been.

I started to shrug out of her coat. “Here,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Keep it. I don’t need it now.”

The warm night air was as soft as suede, salty from the harbor I had never seen.

“The ice wind might come again,” I said.

“I’ll be gone before it does.” Then, with a twist of her mouth that seemed decided to be amused, she brushed my shoulders and tugged at the hem of the coat to straighten any wrinkles. The gesture felt at once affectionate and dismissive. “It suits you. Even if it’s a little big.” She placed a palm against my cheek. I started at her touch. She dropped her hand.

Later, I wished that I had called to her, that I had said I missed her as soon as she turned to walk away. I wished she had seen how I brought my hand to my cheek. Her touch shivered down my back.

It lingered long after she passed through the wall’s gate.

17

THE INSIDE OF THE TAVERN was darker than the moonlit night. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when I did I saw Annin asleep at a table, hair spilling over her arm. I was surprised to find her there, and wondered if she had been too tired from work that night to return to her room. I tried to shut the door quietly behind me, but the iron bolt was heavy. It thunked into place.

Annin stirred. She lifted her head from the table, rubbing her mouth. Then she saw me and stared. “Nirrim? Is that really you?”

“Shh,” I said, but she bounded from the table to pull me into her arms.

“We were so worried.” She pressed her hands to my cheeks, searching my face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” When she hugged me again, her face brushing mine was wet with tears. Was it wrong to feel a small pleasure? I hadn’t known she cared so much.

“What did they take?”

“Just my blood. You must be quiet. You will wake—”