“I suppose this is what we reap from our reputation for deviousness,” I sighed. “No one believes us when we’re being straightforward.” Not to mention that someone on the Council had been playing games—but I wasn’t going to tell even Venasha about Leodra.

Aleki came trundling back, a fistful of bedraggled flowers held before him with great purpose. Foss followed him, a shy smile on his face as he locked eyes with Venasha, and I suspected I knew who had given Aleki the idea to bring flowers to his mother. A warm glow melted some of the worry clumped in my chest as Venasha scooped her son up into a tight hug to thank him and pulled Foss in as well, all three of them beaming.

“Be a shame to set them on fire,” Zaira whispered in my ear.

I cast a despairing look at her. She stared back a flat challenge.

“Amalia!” Marcello’s voice called.

He approached us along the winding garden path, striding along with fluid energy. The sun caught the clean lines of his face and set a glow in the dark waves of his hair. Grace of Love, he looked good.

“Sorry I’m late.” He seemed slightly out of breath as he joined us, and I caught the scent of horse lingering from his ride to the city. He leaned in, glancing at Venasha and Foss to make sure they couldn’t overhear. “We were discussing methods to trace the false Falconers, to find out who exactly was wearing those uniforms. I had to speak with an intelligence officer over the courier lamps.”

“Do you have any leads?” I asked.

“Not yet. It seems likely they must have been hired criminals, but whoever they were, they’re keeping quiet.” He shook off gloom like rain, turning with a smile to Venasha, Foss, and Aleki. “But enough of that. Why don’t you introduce me to your friends, Amalia? I’d love to meet—” He broke off, staring at Aleki.

I followed his gaze. Venasha and Foss were talking to their son about the flowers, their backs mostly to us. Aleki’s serious face showed between them as he explained something in his tiny voice, poking at the flowers his mother now held. It was the first time I’d gotten a good look at his eyes, with all the running around he’d been doing.

A faint but distinct vermilion ring surrounded his pupils.

He was mage-marked.

Chapter Nineteen

Fingers like iron bands dug into my wrist as Zaira pulled Marcello and me aside.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed to Marcello.

Trouble weighed down his brows. “You saw his eyes, Zaira. You know the law.”