I rubbed the dark that had transferred from my hair to her shoulder, and took one final glance in the hand mirror, confirming that the cosmetics she’d applied had satisfactory darkened my lashes and brows. I wore trousers and a coat that had been hastily altered to fit, and the scarf Sabine handed me completed my disguise. It wasn’t as good as troll magic, but unlike magic, it was firmly in place.

“Sabine, I need to speak with Cécile.”

I’d felt Tristan enter the room, but I took my time turning around, not entirely desirous of him seeing me like this.

“You look dreadful,” he said, stepping aside so that Sabine could leave the room, seemingly oblivious to the dark glare she cast his direction.

“I didn’t realize your feelings were so dependent on my appearance,” I said, crossing my arms.

“They aren’t.” And before I could blink, he was across the room, lifting me up and against him. “But I’m tired of disguising you and sending you off while I wait to see if you’ll return.”

“I always come back,” I murmured, gently kissing his forehead, the heat of his skin against my lips making me burn hot in other places. “I will always come back. And besides, you aren’t sending me. I…” Frowning, I straightened so I could meet his gaze, seeing his self-satisfaction even as I felt it. “You knew I’d insist on going.”

“Of course I knew,” he said. “Why do you think your brother was in such a foul temper?”

“Am I so predictable?”

“Predictable? No.” He buried his face in my neck, teeth catching at the skin of my throat. “Steadfast and constant? Yes. Brave? Always.”

He walked backwards, then fell onto the bed so that my knees rested on either side of him on the coverlet. One gloved hand gripped my waist, then slid over the curve of my hip, while the other cupped the nape of my neck, gently tugging me downward. The feel of leather against my skin irritated me for reasons I could not quite articulate, and I resisted, bracing my arm against his shoulder. “Then why the pretense?”

He turned his head, cheek pressing against the bed as he stared into the fire burning in the hearth. “In case I was wrong.”

His doubt gnawed at me, and I sensed it was for reasons other than the subject at hand. And also that he had no intention of talking about them. Sighing, I relaxed my arm and lowered myself to his chest, listening to the measured thud of his heart. I wanted to stay like this for as long as I could, content in his arms, the warm glow of the fire in my eyes. But there was no time. For us, there was never time. “Tell me.”