Foldrey traced his thumb along the edge of the desk, his attention fixated on some distant point. “When Aramis proved to be human, she was devastated. I felt nothing but relief. At least she would be safe, and Galen safe from her.” A grim smile flickered over his face. “Now, thanks to winalin, the twins have never been more at risk—and I am terrified. Because if we lose them, we lose all of Isodal.”

“I agree,” Ranka said easily. “The sooner we can cure winalin and protect everyone, the better.”

Foldrey smiled as if she’d said something funny. “Your parents,” he said lightly. “Were they northerners?”

“I don’t remember them. The Skra are the only family I’ve ever known.”

“The family you choose are the ones who leave the deepest mark.” He took a sip of his drink. “I think it may be time you return to yours.”

Shock jolted through every nerve in her body. Foldrey paused, glass hovering at his lips, pale eyes trained on her as he let what he was suggesting hit her in full.

“C-Captain,” she began. “What—”

“You’ll find an address in your room,” he said slowly, each word clearly, painfully enunciated. “There’s a change of clothes there for you and a false passport granting you transport north.”

The dread returned, drip by terrible drip. “What you’re suggesting—”

“Suggesting? I’m simply giving you an address.” He leaned forward, his gaze unblinking. Some warmth returned to his voice. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Ranka. Truly. I think you’re a scared kid in an impossible position who never asked for any of this. I think you’re in over your head, and your loyalties are confused. And I think, more than anything, you want to go home.”

Every part of her was locked in place. He could be lying, but she didn’t think so. It wasn’t hatred he regarded her with, but sadness. Like he saw a piece of Ranka he recognized—and was trying to do her a favor.

And isn’t he?

A passport, a change of clothes, a guaranteed ticket home. She could leave this cursed city behind, bring evidence of winalin back to the Skra and push them north, into the Kithraki Mountains or beyond to wait winalin out. Ongrum would be furious—but anger faded over time. What good was a kingdom riddled by disease? An angry coven was better than a dead one.

She should have jumped at the chance. She had every reason in the world to. Thanks to winalin, bringing the Skra here was a death sentence.

So why did the prospect of abandoning Seaswept now feel like one, too?

“Tell me, Bloodwinn—do you know what the role of a guard is?”

“To protect,” Ranka said slowly, still reeling from his words.