“You must have had this problem before.” I hesitated a moment, then leaned my back against the fine oak paneling beside him. “Surely not every Falcon comes eagerly to the Mews.”

“No, they come as children. It’s very different. Our challenge is getting the parents convinced this is best for their child, and settling whether the family will move into the Mews too, or if they’ll just visit each other.” A shadow passed through his eyes. “Or sometimes the child has no family, but if that’s the case, usually we’re rescuing them from a situation bad enough they’re thrilled to be here. I’ve never had to deal with a new, uncooperative adult Falcon.”

“Never, in five years?”

“The mage mark is usually fully formed by four years old. It’s too hard to hide, and we find them, if someone else doesn’t first. But you’ve seen her eyes—her mage mark is black, and you can barely make it out. She must have hidden it all these years.”

I let out a long breath. “That’s why she doesn’t have anyone close to her. No friends, no partners, no lovers. Because they would meet her eyes.”

“Grace of Mercy.” He brought a hand to his face. “That’s awful.”

“It sounds like a terrible way to live,” I agreed.

“I don’t know how we overcome that to build a bond between you.” He gave me a rueful half smile. One dimple formed a comma on his cheek, and suddenly the space between us seemed too narrow and too warm. “Especially with you only here for an hour or two at a time.”

I wanted to protest, but it was the truth. I drummed my fingers against the wall, turning the problem over in my mind.

“I should take her out of the Mews with me.” It was a daunting notion.

He ran his fingers through his hair, a worried gesture. “Yes. Graces help us, I think you should.”

Exsolvo was not a word that came up in casual conversation. But I found myself nonetheless terrified it would somehow slip out.

It didn’t help my peace of mind that Zaira kept glaring around the market in a manner suggesting frustrated disappointment that nothing was bursting into flame. With canopied wooden stalls overflowing with fruit and vegetables and thick crowds moving between them, there were a disturbing number of flammable objects about. I supposed I wouldn’t have to worry about unleashing Zaira to burn Ardence if she burned Raverra first.

“This is stupid,” Zaira grumbled, fingering a cluster of honeyfruit. The merchant glanced nervously at her scarlet uniform as he haggled with another customer. “I don’t want to shop for moldy vegetables. I want to go talk to the ragpicker in the Tallows.”