The wall clock chimed softly for seven. Ceci glared into the dressing table mirror, dissecting her reflection for the slightest flaw it might betray her with. Any errant strand of hair, any blemish uncovered, any smudge of color where it didn’t belong was an intolerable threat.

Tonight had to be perfect. Every night had to be perfect.

Her nose twitched, and she grabbed one of her carefully bleached curls. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she picked up a hint of vinegar. She took the bottle of Sallician rosewater and scattered a few more drops on her head, as well as her wrists for good measure. Such an expensive perfume should not go to waste. Even if she wasn’t the one who paid for it.

The clock chimed again. It was now a quarter past. Alendro, who had agreed to be there at seven, might have actually arrived by now. Ceci spent another five minutes picking out a pair of sandals, then found an air-thin shawl to go with her sleeveless dress. She put on her slender gilded headband, leaving a single lock hanging before her forehead, and as half past seven rolled around, she left the room.

The Three Oxen was one of the finest inns in the city of Tarnecia, free from noise and drunken revelry, even in the later hours. As Ceci glided down the carpeted stairs to the entry hall, there was only the murmur of consummately polite conversation from well-dressed men in plush chairs. The lone person on foot awaited Ceci by the end of the staircase.

He stood six feet tall, with features that may well have been dreamed up by a sculptor. His broad shoulders were wrapped in an equestrian drape of wine red brocade, befitting an aristocrat of his station. Both his hands rested behind his back, putting the musculature of his bronzed arms on display. The black of his boots matched that of his lush hair, but couldn’t outshine his dark eyes, as he welcomed Ceci with a lethally charming smile.

Alendro Benuarte was Perfection in human form, and no one knew this better than he himself.

“Did I keep you waiting, my love?” Ceci breathed as she reached the bottom step.

In place of an answer, Alendro wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her on the lips. As he pulled away, he beamed with satisfaction, much in the way a collector may revel in his latest acquisition. He stroked her forehead to tuck away the lone curl Ceci had left out for him. “You look—”

“Beguiling? Breathtaking?” Ceci raised her eyebrows to an impish arc and sank her voice lower. “Ravishing?”

“—like a whore.”

Ceci threw her head back and laughed. “Do you want me to go upstairs and get changed? Or would your father terribly mind the further wait?”

“Oh, I’m sure he would.” Alendro sighed, entertaining the thought. “But I do think we should get going.” He kept one hand on the small of Ceci’s back as he led the way to the exit.

It was well into the last month of spring, but in Tarnecia, the season had barely started. The city lay in the shade of the Quierney mountains in West Ardonne, almost half a mile above sea level. Every so often, a stiff breeze swept the narrow streets, and Ceci made sure to shudder dramatically with each one, giving Alendro ample excuse to rub her bare shoulder.

Their goal was only a short walk away at another inn, where Alendro’s father, the legendary former captain Harmon Benuarte, awaited them for dinner. Even Ceci had heard of his name, as the man who fought the final battle at sea during the last Werrish conflict. Someone like him would hate being held up, particularly by someone like her.

The street turned into a staircase under their feet, as it followed the slope of the mountain. With each step, Ceci swung the end of her shawl in wide movements beside her.

“What do you think he’ll call me this time?” she asked, touching the tip of her forefinger against her cheek in mock pensiveness. “A leech? A flea? A tick? I don’t believe he’s called me a tick yet.”

“I think he’s warming up to you. The last time he and I spoke, he called you a magpie.”

“Well, from him, that’s practically a compliment!”

“Indeed. Perhaps you should start wearing thinner clothes, just in case.”

Within a few minutes, they arrived. The inn was the largest in the city, with two entire floors dedicated to feasting and drinking. Music and cheers blared through the wide open entrance, as well as the numerous windows in every direction. Ceci moved to enter, but Alendro held her back.

“I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a velvet bag tied with a white silk ribbon.

Ceci gasped and opened her gift. It was a necklace this time, made of solid gold like all the others. What made it more special was the row of small crystals fitted into the front part. At first glance, they appeared to reflect the sunlight many times over—but a closer look revealed that the light in fact came from inside them.

A necklace with thaumaturgic quartzes. The eighth ridiculously expensive and gaudy trinket in as many weeks.

“It’s absolutely wonderful. Shall I put it on right now?” Ceci asked needlessly. The only purpose of these gifts was to be seen by the man whose money had actually paid for them.

Alendro took the chain and helped it on her. As he fastened the clasp, he leaned into her hair and drew a slow, lazy breath. Another pleased smile crept to his lips as he smelled the rosewater—the gift from the week before.

While Alendro dallied behind Ceci’s neck, she grabbed his forearm, pretending only now to notice the bruise on his wrist. “Is that what I think it is?”

“How am I to know what you think?” Alendro asked with barely feigned innocence.

“You’ve been slumming again.” Ceci pouted. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

“No, you told me I shouldn’t.”

Slumming was a popular pastime among young people with too much money and free time. The routine was simple enough: hire some men as bodyguards for a night, get them drunk in a rough part of town, pick fights with the locals, then make bets among themselves on the ensuing brawl. Most well-bred brats preferred to stay out of the scuffle and grew out of the habit in their early twenties.

At the age of twenty-six, Alendro showed no sign of losing interest, and he delighted in showing off his legionary training by throwing himself into the fray. Ceci could imagine what chance some drunk commoners stood against someone trained by the cream of the Ardonnese forces. Nonetheless, she also knew that noble or common, the price of life was never more than one dumb mistake. And she needed Alendro alive. She needed him badly.

“I’m going to worry myself sick about you,” she pressed. “What if you get into trouble?”

“A rich man is only in trouble when he wants to be, and only for as long as he feels like it,” Alendro quoted the saying without a hint of the bitter irony that common people would recite it with. “But if it bothers you so much, you’ll be happy to know I won’t be doing it for a while. I need to be in good shape.”

Ceci’s curiosity piqued. “What for?”

“In two weeks, Father and I will be traveling to Lake Forterne to join my uncle and his offspring at the Benuarte villa for the First of Summer. There will be feasts, games, and parades. None but the most intimate family circles are welcome.”

Ceci buried her chin coyly in her shoulder. “Sounds nothing like a place where I would belong.”

“No, you most certainly wouldn’t.”

Ceci had no doubt that Alendro was already picturing his father’s reaction when he found out she would be coming along for the celebrations.

Alendro gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

In response, Ceci threw an arm around his shoulder. She kissed him on the cheek, leaned against his broad chest, and followed him inside like the picture of ardent infatuation.

Yes, Alendro Benuarte was indeed perfect. He was well bred and well mannered. His title, wealth, and beauty made Ceci the envy of every woman wherever they went. He was a gentleman in public and the right kind of savage in private. And most importantly, he didn’t love her—which, in turn, meant he wouldn’t go running after her if she suddenly vanished.

Ceci counted the days until the gathering at the Benuarte villa, hoping that with each new morning, she would get one step closer to the man she was going to kill.