After today, I didn’t much fancy her company myself. Why couldn’t I have put the jess on a nice, willing artificer or alchemist, who could collaborate with me on magical research? But here I was, tethered for life to a surly pickpocket of a fire warlock, with whom the only thing I shared in common was that someday we might bring disaster upon a city I cared for.

“I didn’t handle that well, did I,” Marcello said at last, his brows drawn down in worry.

“No. You didn’t.” I wasn’t sure what angered me more: that I hadn’t known about the guards or that they’d been necessary.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have kept the guards a secret from either of you. I’m sorry. I hoped Zaira wouldn’t notice, and feel less like a prisoner, but it backfired.”

“What were you so afraid of, anyway? Did you know Zaira was a thief?”

“No.” Marcello glanced down into his lap. His rapier hilt and the butt of a flintlock pistol flanked his hips. It must have taken a fair amount of practice to master boarding a boat with the former. “The soldiers weren’t to keep her in line. They were there to protect you.”

I stared. “Me?”

“Both of you.”

“Marcello, I go out in the city without escort all the time. It’s insulting to pretend I need four guards—four secret guards—in a public market in broad daylight.”

“I know, my lady. It’s excessive.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But your safety is my first priority. If anything happened to you …” He trailed off, glancing away at the canal.

“Yes?” The end of that sentence mattered. I willed him to finish it.

“Well, for one thing, I’d probably lose my position.” He laughed, but it was a stiff sound, not his usual free and easy one. “I can only imagine what they’d do to me if I allowed harm to come to the Cornaro heir. And Zaira’s security is critical to the Empire. The doge is after the colonel already, asking if our new fire warlock is safe and sound and ready for duty. And the colonel’s on me to let me know it’s my head if she isn’t. If anything happened to either of you, at best I’d be heading back home to tell my father and brother they were right, and I failed.”

My lips tightened against his words as if they were sour wine. “I see.”

For a moment, silence lay between us. It was an uncomfortable thing, heavy and rough, like a wet wool blanket.

Finally, he met my eyes. “Also, my lady, I consider you a friend. If it isn’t too presumptuous.”

Something eased in my shoulders. “Not at all.”