The group fell into silence. Ninavis gave me several odd looks. She knew something had happened but hadn’t been close enough to hear. Qown wore the air of a child ignoring his parents arguing.

And Mithros felt no need to provide any explanations at all.

He led us through a long underground complex used for housing and meditation chambers for the temple priests. Like the others, they paid us little mind.

By the time we reached the second staircase, I felt like a fool. How could I have let my overactive imagination get the better of me? I had witnessed an impressive demonstration of idorrá upstairs, but Mithros’s race was immortal. Cowing Aroth hadn’t required a god, just a man who was a thousand years old.

Plus, the priests didn’t treat Mithros with any reverence. They all but rolled their eyes at him, like he was an old uncle who embarrassed everyone by telling lewd jokes at dinner. He was family, taken for granted.

Not how one treated a member of the Eight.

The second staircase debouched into a space so large its edges vanished into darkness. The air felt cold and moist. In the distance, I heard running water. This would have been quite normal for an estava, but Atrine had been built by a Quuros emperor. He wouldn’t have made estavas or cellar homes. Indeed, as far as I knew, Atrine had no cellars. Not one. The stairs weren’t designed for horses; even a fireblood would have balked at descending them.

Old stone blocks, massive but fitted, lined the floor. Small glowing lanterns illuminated the area, glowing whiter than candlelight or oil lanterns. Couches and tables filled an area similar to a tavern, manned by Red Spears, to judge by the armbands. They waved at Mithros and looked at us with interest before returning to more important activities: eating, drinking, gambling.

“Most people think this is a little oppressive, even for a people who prefer to build their homes underground,” Mithros explained, “so the priests let us use the space. I find it helpful for talking in private. Now do you want to continue pretending I’m only interested in hiring your archer’s services”—he motioned to Ninavis—“or do you want to explain what this is about?” He paused and smiled at Ninavis. “I should add the marriage offer is sincere.”

Ninavis rolled her eyes.

“We need to talk in private,” I cleared my throat and looked around. “At least, as privately as this allows.”

“Everyone, show my guests a good time.” Mithros pointed to the men and women at the bar. “Don’t take too much metal from them at dice.”

“Dice?” Dorna perked up. “Oh, I just couldn’t. I’m terrible at dice.”

“Oh hell,” Mithros muttered. “She’s going to rob them for every throne, chance, and chalice they have.” He gestured toward another stairway leading even farther down into the darkness. “Shall we?”