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Arun began rummaging through Zeke’s satchel, but Valeria hesitated.

“Do I have permission to search your belongings, Miss Summers?”

Her question was more civil than sincere; we both knew I didn’t have a choice. So I nodded, desperately hoping that she would bypass the compass, thinking it to be ordinary.

Zeke’s boot scraped up and down the rug, cutting through the quiet, as Valeria withdrew the items from my saddlebag. Spare bandages, my waterskin, the coin purse Perla had given me. I was so tightly wound, awaiting the compass’s appearance, that I didn’t expect the plunge in my stomach as Valeria brought out the xerylite ring.

The engagement ring given to me by the king of Daradon.

“You’re married?” she asked, voice strained.

“No,” I said, and her shoulders inexplicably relaxed. “It’s a family heirloom,” I added.

Zeke scoffed, and I stifled the urge to kick his chair leg out from under him.

Meanwhile, Arun must not have found anything noteworthy in Zeke’s satchel, because he was now rattling my open purse. “Are these, too, family heirlooms?” He tilted the purse’s mouth to reveal Perla’s rings.

“No.” Remembering how Perla had slipped those rings off her own fingers for me, I said, “Those were gifts.”

Arun smiled as though he didn’t believe me.

Valeria reached into the bag again. The compass’s bronze lid glinted as she began drawing it out—

My specter rushed up beyond my control, smacking against her wrist in one heavy, clumsy wave. She jerked, and the compass thumped inside the bag.

“Ah.” Arun chuckled. “Have we stumbled upon an item Miss Summers wishes us not to touch?”

I knew I’d just inadvertently shown my hand to someone who could very well use it against me. And yet my specter remained pulsing against Keil’s sister, urged as though by some deep, instinctual search for aid.

As Valeria intently held my gaze, I didn’t try to conceal my silent, desperate begging.

“Do go on, Your Highness,” Arun said. “Show us what Miss Summers has to hide.”

Valeria’s expression flattened as though she’d reached a decision.

My specter retreated in dread as she dipped back into the bag . . . and pulled out my lattice-handled knife instead.

Relief flooded me, vast and unexpected. With Erik’s blood scabbing the furrows of the handle, this knife would certainly be considered a suspicious possession. But it was not the most damning.

And, for whatever reason, Valeria had just made sure Arun wouldn’t find that out.

He folded his hands before his tunic, smirking. “Is it fair to conclude that today does not mark your first venture into criminal activity?”

“I’m a Daradonian-born Wielder,” I said bitterly. “My first breath could be considered criminal activity.”

Looking faintly amused, Arun stretched his palm toward Valeria. “May I?” Reluctantly, she relinquished the knife for his assessment. “Parrian steel, excellent grip. The handle is beautifully crafted, though it requires cleaning.” His eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll be generous enough to assume you’ve been using the blade to gut fish.”

“Miss Summers requires medical attention,” Valeria said. “This can wait.”

“Can it? Just think, Your Highness. With Miss Summers’s help, we might spare your brother the pain he is currently enduring under Her Majesty’s orders.”

As Valeria’s expression darkened, cold horror quickened my heart rate. I rapidly assessed her features again to see if I’d gotten it wrong. But no. This was Keil’s sister.

Which meant that Keil was currently suffering.

I was mentally scrambling, trying to fathom why he would be suffering—and how this interrogation had anything to do with it—when Arun angled the knife’s handle toward me.

“My eyesight is not as sharp as I’d like, Miss Summers. Could you describe this emblem for me?”