“Where we trained. We can go back there, though it will be cold, so bundle up,” I respond tersely. When he’s sufficiently bundled in both his and Fionn’s cloaks, I aerstep us back to the Spined Moors. The wind howls, and my magic can only ease it so much.

“How are you not fucking freezing?” Hawthorne asks the moment we appear, practically growling the last two words.

“I can warm myself up with my magic,” I answer automatically, and that seems to startle him.

“But—how? I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that. What conduit could that possibly be connected to?” Another day, another secret I’ve revealed to him without even thinking.

“A witch never reveals her secrets.” My usual quip falls flat, but Hawthorne doesn’t press it as we sit on my favorite boulder. I will it to heat a bit to cut the worst of the biting cold for him, and he studies my face for what feels like an eternity. I’m about to ask him what he’s looking for, giving him one of the signature barbs we trade with one another, when he finally speaks.

“Laurel, I’d like to understand more about the declining thayar. I won’t reveal any of what you tell me, not even to Fionn and Silene.”

Tension rolls through my body, leaving my shoulders tight and my jaw aching with how tightly I clench it. Magic deep inside of me opens its eye, like it’s waiting to see what I’ll do, and the ground around us trembles. This time, I’m not sure if it’s me or something else that causes the quake. I wasn’t expecting this, and there’s no way I’m going to discuss it with him. I open my mouth to tell him to mind his own business, but he cuts me off.

“Before you say no,” he continues, voice serious and commanding, “let me remind you that Velmara is now paying twenty percent more for our thayar imports, besides buying what I can now deduce is your entire supply. Not only that, you’ve abandoned your wheat agreement with Delsar and now source your entire country’s grain from Velmara, a deal that’s contingent on you being able to continue supplying thayar. You’re in a precarious situation with trade here.” Is he threatening me? There are very few plants to call on here, so I gather the mist, ready to choke him to remind him who he’s dealing with.

“How dare you threaten me,” I hiss. His demeanor stays calm as he holds his hands up, placating.

“I want to understand so that I can help you, Laurel. This problem isn’t going away without some pretty impressive political maneuvering, and even then, it’s unlikely you’ll fool my father. Let me be a real ally to you. Please.”