Verida lifted her hand to knock on Beltran’s door, but that was as far as she got. Her fist hung in mind air, unwilling to finish the job. This was how it had all started, all those years ago: her asking Beltran for help.    One thing had led to another, and she’d started to trust him . . . She’d started to love him. And he’d ripped her heart out. 

   “In order to knock on a door, you do have to touch it.”   

   Verida whirled. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t heard him coming. It was a fledgling move. “What are you doing!”

   “What am I doing?” Beltran shoved his hands in his pockets and cocked his head to the side. “Going to my room. What are you doing?”

   “Looking for you.”

   “Reeeally?” He didn’t attempt to disguise his amusement.

   “Yes. Obviously. Why the hell else would I be down here?”

   He strolled forward. “I’m sure I can think of a few reasons.” When they were toe to toe, he bent at the waist, putting his face inches from hers. “Verida,” he whispered. “What did you need?”

   “Get away from me.”

   “Relax, darling. I’m just opening the door.” He grinned and reached over her shoulder. “You’re blocking the way.” 

   Verida stiffened. He was so close. She could smell him, almost feel him. Mother of Rana, why did she care? 

   He pushed the door open with the tips of his fingers, gave her a laughing look through thick lashes, and stepped around.

    “Hey!” Verida spun and followed him into the room. “Don’t try to distract me.” 

   “I wouldn’t dream of trying to distract you. Besides, I thought you were immune to my charms these days.” He flopped onto the bed, landing against the pillows on his side. He bent his elbow and propped up his head with one hand. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

   “What question?”

   “Ah, you’re still susceptible to my charm after all!”

   “Beltran!”

   “The question was, what do you need?”

   “I . . . need . . .” The words stuck like a mouthful of honey, from where they began all the way to her lips. She couldn’t even look at him, staring instead at the painting of the woman in the trees that hung on his wall. “Your help.”

   He laughed out loud. “Verida. You’ve made it quite clear that you want nothing to do with me. Ow!” He wiggled an arm behind his pillow and pulled out a shard of pottery. “As evidenced.” 

   Beltran tossed the broken piece to the side table. “I’ll have you know that pot was one of my favorites. You’ve declined my friendship and certainly my help. In fact, it has been all of a few hours since you last cursed my existence.”

 “Fine,” she snarled. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Already planning on it.”

   She was halfway through turning to leave—wrapping her fingers into fists to resist grabbing any more pottery—before she reined in her temper and painfully swallowed her pride. 

   She had nowhere else to go. 

   “Rune is in the dungeon.”

   Beltran jerked, sitting straight up. “What?” 

   She gave a bitter snort. “Oh, left before that happened, did you? Most unlike you to miss anything noteworthy. Yes, Rune barged into the council room after you ran your mouth about Feena. She pushed the council too far, and they threw her in a cell to think things over.”

   “Oh no.” He propelled himself to the edge of the bed, the hem of his pants pulled up past his ankles in haste. “I tried to warn her, Verida. I did. I’ll look for Grey. Maybe—”

   “How?” she demanded. “I thought you couldn’t set foot in Feena’s land.”

   “I can’t. But I can fly over.”

   “Great idea. I’m sure Grey will be conveniently standing in a clearing. Then you can direct him to safety using bird signals.” She held up her hands and mimicked a few pathetic flaps.

   “Cute. Did you have a better idea?”

   “Yes. I need Rune out of the dungeon as soon as possible so she can convince the council to give us permission to enter Feena’s lands.”

   “Decided not to disobey the council again? Probably wise.”

   “Thank you for your approval. It means so much.” She glared. “I need Rune out in the morning, and I need . . .” She pressed her lips together. 

   “You need me,” he said, the words spoken with unmistakable relish. “I haven’t heard you say that in a while.”

   “Beltran,” she seethed, stalking toward the bed. “I am going to rip that tongue from your flapping mouth.” 

   His eyes still glittered with delight. “Tongue ripped out, got it. Do continue.”

   Her inability to get under his skin got under hers. “I need to get Rune out, and I don’t have any favors to call in. Do you?”

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