“It’s probably better for me here.” Addie glances around, as if checking that no one is listening. After a moment, she says, “I didn’t have the chance to explain myself before Ivan hauled me away.” She leans forward, her eyes darting across the nearest drinkers before she speaks again, in a hushed whisper. “I touched the Queen when she fell. I was trying to help. But she . . . she was ice-cold. More than cold. She was—” Addie stops, biting her lip. “It felt like my life was being drained away, just by touching her. Like getting your time drawn, but worse.”

It’s as though a trickle of ice runs down my own spine, when I think of how the Queen appeared to me in the doorway just a few hours ago. How she seemed to draw something from Caro.

“I could have suffered worse than this. Ivan, he tried—” Addie stops, wipes a spot in front of her that’s already clean. “I might have died if it weren’t for Lord Liam.”

My disbelief must show on my face, because Addie continues. “He interviewed me, got me a job here. He’s friends with the owner—I think he comes here to get out from under his parents’ noses, to do his research without being bothered.”

“Research?”

“He’s back there now.” Addie jerks one thumb over her shoulder, indicating a nondescript back door I hadn’t noticed before.

My blood freezes, then heats. Maybe it’s just the drink making me brave, but I want to learn something from him, once and for all. What could he possibly need to hide out in a teahouse in Laista for?

He looks up when I march through the door. The desk before him is strewn with books and papers. He’s dressed simply: a long wool coat over a white shirt and breeches. But the plainest clothes in the world couldn’t disguise his hungry eyes, his forward-leaning posture. A thousand thoughts and calculations race through my mind. Cutting through everything are my father’s words: If you ever see Liam Gerling, run.

Though every muscle in my body is crying for me to flee, I walk toward Liam and sit down across from him, pushing my cloak back from my shoulders. He stares at me. His pupils grow huge in the dim light.

“Lord Gerling,” I say, making my voice as frostily calm as I can. “Why does it seem that everywhere I am, you are there, too?”

At my words, his jaw hardens. “This town belongs to my family,” he says. “I can go where I please. But I can’t say the same about you, Jules.” My name in his voice makes goose bumps break out along my arms. “Shouldn’t you be at Everless?”

“Your future sister invited me here,” I snap back. “So if you don’t want me in your town, take it up with her.”

Liam shakes his head, wraps his hands around his shoulders like he’s cold. It makes me very aware of how I’m dressed, Ina’s silk clinging to me and leaving my arms bare. The warm feeling from the madel evaporates, and suddenly I feel chilly and vulnerable.

“It’s not about what I want,” Liam says, his voice so low I unconsciously lean closer to hear. There’s a note of urgency there, some undercurrent I don’t understand. “You’re out here in the town, alone. Do you always race openhearted into danger like this?”

“The only danger here is people like you—your family. You,” I say, my voice poisonous, “are the reason we are all unsafe.” I can’t hold back a snort. “You of all people should know that Everless is much more dangerous than Laista.”

“Yet you’re still there.” Liam stares at me for a moment, his brow furrowed, as if I’m some thorny exam question he’s trying to untangle. Then his face unfolds and he smiles as he runs his hands through his hair, tipping his head back like a plea to the Sorceress. It’s a strange mix of amusement and desperation, and so unexpected that I hardly remember where I am, with whom I’m speaking.

“You’re not wrong about Everless being dangerous,” he continues, looking back at me. “Especially for someone so close to the Queen.”

“So you think the Queen is dangerous,” I say.

“I didn’t say that,” he replies deliberately. “But you’d do well not to say it, either, no matter who you’re friends with.” He leans forward, his eyes suddenly pleading. “Listen to what I’m telling you.”

“Why shouldn’t I say it?” I challenge him, feeling the heat of madel in my veins. I tilt my head upward, speak as if to a crowd. “If she’s safe, if she’s good—”

“Stop it.” Liam remains still. “Jules—”

“I’m done listening to greedy time thieves.”

“I’m not the one you should fear,” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“You—” my voice falters but I swallow the lump of fear in my throat, maintain his gaze. “You tried to kill Roan. You pushed him into the forge when we were children. Of course I’m afraid of you.”

His cheek twitches, as if I’ve slapped him, but he recovers quickly.

“Your memory fails you,” Liam says. “Ask him yourself—he’ll tell you he remembers nothing.”

For a moment, doubt pierces me, but I push it away. I know to trust myself more than Liam Gerling. Papa’s memory gives me strength. I want to shock Liam, to put him off-balance as he’s done to me, so I continue, “The Queen is dying. Did you know that?”

This gets to him—he leans back forcefully, as if he’s received a blow. “The queen of Sempera is not dying.” His voice is soft but sure, and his eyes cloud over in thought as if he’s forgotten me entirely. “It’s not that simple. Trust me, Jules.”

“Why?” I spit. His lie and his request mix in the air and fill my lungs. “Why would I trust you?”

“If you’re not careful, you will be hurt, Jules. Leave Everless. Go tonight. Stop looking for secrets from your past.” He takes a breath. “Pehr wasn’t your father, but he would have wanted the same.”

Shock freezes my chest. “How do you know that? And why . . .” I whisper, my voice ragged.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that with only a little effort and luck, anyone can find out anything.”

“Tell me,” I demand, infuriated that Liam, sitting in front of me, seems to know more about me than I know about myself, as if my life is another coin to be counted and locked away.

Liam leans forward on the desk. I notice how he taps the notebook in front of him with one finger in a simple, persistent rhythm—an unconscious movement. My eyes follow. Immediately, I recognize its slim spine and brown leather cover. His personal notebook, the one he was writing in that day I followed him from the library.

He knew I was an orphan, it seems, perhaps before I knew myself. What else might he know, have written down in that notebook?

“I’ll escort you back.” Liam pushes his chair back from the table. “Stay here while I pay my tab,” he says brusquely to me, before striding out into the main bar area.

My anger rises at his presumption. But then, behind where he was sitting, I spot a narrow door in the back. From the small window set into it, I can see the light of streetlamps.