“You shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he muttered.

She heard the strain in his voice. His eyes cut to her, and she saw that he knew she had heard it. His body shifted into a position of determined nonchalance. “Logically speaking,” he said lightly, “the idea that you hired someone to attack me doesn’t make much sense. I’m not sure what your motive would be.”

“I could have wanted to put an end to the rumors.”

“That would be a shame. I like the rumors.”

“Don’t joke. You should blame me. You must.”

He shook his head. “It’s not like you to send someone else to do your dirty work.”

“I could have changed.”

“Kestrel, why are you trying to convince me of your guilt?”

Because this is my fault, she wanted to say.

“A moment ago, you insisted that you had nothing to do with this,” Arin said, “and that’s what makes sense. Do you want to tell me why the emperor took your dagger? Whom did he want to punish with it? Just me … or you, too?”

Kestrel couldn’t speak.

“I might even be flattered,” Arin said, “if the emperor’s form of flattery didn’t hurt so much.” He straightened, and offered her the dagger again.

“No,” she said sharply.

“It’s not the blade’s fault.”

She choked on her anguish. On her guilt, her fault, and his trust. “If you give that dagger to me, I will throw it in the river.”

Arin shrugged. He tucked the dagger back into his boot, then he faced her. The slash curved slightly in his cheek like half a smile, but his mouth was flat as he watched her take him in. “I’m sure that my new appearance is fascinating in all sorts of ways, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’d rather talk about this.” He pointed at Kestrel’s work scarf and dragged his finger down through the air to her black boots. “Kestrel, what are you doing?”

She had forgotten what she wore. “Nothing.”

He lifted his dark brows.

“It was a dare,” she said. “A senator’s daughter dared me to sneak out of the palace without an escort.”

“Try harder, Kestrel.”

She muttered, “I was tired of being closed up inside the palace.”

“That I believe. But I doubt it’s the whole truth.”

Arin’s eyes were narrow, inspecting her. His hand slid along the railing as he came close. He reached for the collar of the sailor’s coat. He drew it away from her neck.

The world went luscious, and slow, and still.

He bowed his head. Stitches scratched against her cheek. Arin buried his face in the hollow between her neck and the coat collar and breathed in. Warmth flooded her.

Kestrel imagined: his mouth parting against her skin. The teeth of his smile. And she imagined more, she saw what she would do, how she would forget herself, how everything would slip and unloop, like rich ribbon off its spool. The dream of this held her. She couldn’t move.

She felt him feel how she didn’t move. Arin hesitated. He lifted his head and looked down at her. The blacks of his eyes were huge.

He released her. “You smell like a man.” He put some distance between them. “Where’d you get that coat?”

Kestrel’s voice wasn’t quite as shaky as the rest of her. “I won it.”

“Who was your victim this time?”

“A sailor. At cards. I was cold.”

“Flustered, Kestrel?”

“Not at all.” She firmed up her voice. “To tell the truth, he gave it to me.”

“Quite an evening you’re having. Sneaking out. Taking coats off sailors. Why do I feel, though, that that’s not the whole of it?”

She shrugged. “I enjoy a good card game. Courtiers provide few.”

“What were the stakes of your late-night gamble?”

“I told you. The coat.”

“You said he gave it to you. You also said that you won. What did you win, then, at cards?”

“Nothing. It was merely for fun.”

“A game against you with nothing at stake? Never.”

“I don’t see why. I once played against you for matches.”

“Yes, you did.” He briefly closed his eyes. Kestrel saw the thin, almost vertical red line that marked his left lid. It scratched at her heart.

He looked at her. His gray eyes hunted her face. She fell prey to them as she always did. Arin smiled. It wasn’t a real smile, and it dragged at the left side of his face. “I challenge you to a game of Bite and Sting, Kestrel. Will you play?”

She turned back to the river. “You should leave the capital.”

“A stormy journey across the sea with no one to keep me company? How tempting.”

She said nothing.

“I don’t want to leave,” Arin said. “I want to play with you. One game.”

There was temptation, and there was the smart thing, but it was becoming increasingly hard for Kestrel to make the right choice. “When?” she managed.

“The next available opportunity.”

There was hardly a Bite and Sting set lying at their feet. Kestrel would have time to prepare … though she had no real notion of what such preparation could be.

Wasn’t it just a game? Just one? “Very well,” she heard herself say.

“Winner take all,” said Arin.