“Of course.” A Vaskandran page in Ruven’s livery showed us a tray of sweets, his offering hand marked by thick stripes of burn scar. Something about that scar pulled at my memory, but Ruven waved him away before I could identify it; the page scurried off, eyes wide. “I wish to visit the libraries one more time. Besides, I have friends there.”

“I do hear you’ve made quite a few friends in Ardence,” I waved a hand. “The Council of Lords, the Shadow Gentry …”

Ruven laughed. “Yes, well, it’s easy enough to make friends with Ardentines. Do them one small favor, and they put their hands on their hearts and swear to be yours for life. Such sincere, passionate people.”

A knot tightened to thrumming in my chest. He hadn’t denied befriending the Shadow Gentry. And if half the court of Ardence was truly his for life, we had more problems than I’d realized.

I lifted my hand in the artful gesture of a lady shielding a good piece of gossip from public view. “I do hope none of your friends were involved in the incident?”

He raised the pale wisps of his brows. “Incident?”

I looked around and stepped aside into a flowery nook shielded by a grape trellis. It was miraculously empty. Prince Ruven followed with the eager confidence of a man who has never had cause to fear assassins.

“Unknown ruffians dressed as Falconers kidnapped the children of some Ardentine nobles a few days ago,” I whispered. “It’s dreadful, don’t you think?”

For a brief moment, pure surprise flashed on Ruven’s face—and something more I couldn’t read. Then his eyes narrowed, the mage mark gleaming violet between his lids. “What nerve! In Vaskandar, no one dares pretend to the authority of the Witch Lords. They would be chained to the mountainside with their entrails exposed, for the vultures to eat them alive.”

Such charming garden party conversation. “I assure you, the Council of Nine will not treat them gently when they’re caught.”

Ruven stroked his chin. “These children—they were mage-marked?”

“That’s the odd thing,” I said. “They weren’t.”

“Ah.” Ruven’s expression cleared, as if I’d lifted some worry or confusion. “Then it was a ruse to take them for ransom, no doubt.” He shook his head. “A tactic of the weak. Disgusting. True power does not stoop to such cowardice, and is not persuaded by it.”

“I feel the same way.” I tried to smooth a frown from my brow. Both Ruven’s surprise and his contempt seemed genuine. Either he was a very good actor or he hadn’t personally been involved in the kidnapping. And Ruven didn’t strike me as a man who bothered to practice deceit; he’d been open enough about the Shadow Gentry a moment ago.

“Of course you do. We are kindred spirits, you and I.” He lifted a hand toward my face.