I managed to avoid Prince Ruven’s attempt to kiss my hand when it was time to leave, giving him a cheery wave instead as I offered my thanks to him and our host.

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, my lady.” Ruven placed a hand over his heart, in lieu of a bow. “And I am quite certain we’ll meet again.”

What did he mean, at last? I couldn’t manage more than a perfunctory smile in return.

I felt his violet-ringed eyes on my back as Domenic and I made our way through the milling guests, all the way across the hall.

Chapter Seven

Domenic and I paused to say our good-byes on the floating town house dock, where our boats awaited us. The lowering sun caught glints of gold and rose in the water on one side of the canal, draping the other in advancing shadows.

“Thank you,” I murmured to Domenic. I couldn’t help admiring the way the light caught his cheekbones and gilded his broad shoulders. I’d given up on him years ago, but he still cut a fine figure; my old admiration provided a comfortable warmth, like the bright, small flame of a reading lamp.

He laughed. “I thought you might need some company. I wouldn’t want to be alone with Prince Ruven myself. He’s a nasty one.”

“What was he doing in Ardence?”

“Causing trouble.” Domenic grimaced. “A certain segment of the Ardentine court finds him impressive—my younger brother, Gabril, sadly, among them. They’ve started a fight in the Council of Lords over whether we should cozy up to Vaskandar in place of Raverra, and it’s gotten to the verge of rude names and hair pulling. That’s why I left; I refuse to get involved. But Ruven’s friends on the Council of Lords seem to think Vaskandar is the magical answer to all the city’s financial woes, ever since that viper talked to them.”

I thought of the red print Ruven’s hand had left on the servant’s wrist. “I wouldn’t want to owe anything to Vaskandar.”

“That’s because you’re no fool, Amalia Cornaro.” Domenic shook out his arms, as if casting off dust that had settled on him. “Bah! Let’s not talk about it. Politics! I’m not cut out to be on the Council of Lords.”

“But you have so many good ideas.” I nudged him with my elbow. “I remember you holding forth at a party, somewhat drunk, about how the River Arden is the city’s lifeblood and … something fine-sounding about reducing docking fees.”

“I wasn’t drunk! Not more than a little, anyway.” He sighed fondly. “I remember that party. I filched a bottle of heirloom reserve Loreician white from the River Palace wine cellars to celebrate the birth of Venasha’s baby.”