“Lionfish,” he whispered in my ear.

Stonefish, I thought back.

I straightened as Talin approached our end of the table. I had no idea where the second son of a king sat, when there could only be one foot and one head at a table. Most of the chairs had lords and ladies behind them, but the one to my left was empty—a fortunate arrangement, since my scar was on my right cheek.

He bowed when he reached me, and I curtsied back, finally feeling a bit steadier in the process. The brothers greeted each other coolly. Everyone else took their seats when the princes sat, and I realized that my chair was much closer to Talin’s than Ceren’s. The king and his heir had the ends of the table to themselves, while the chairs along the sides were pressed together to accommodate so many guests.

“How have you enjoyed your time in Ilara so far?” Talin asked in a low voice.

I glanced at him sideways and tried to imagine how Zadie would behave in this situation. “New Castle is an interesting place,” I said, because my sister would never insult a man’s home. “I can see I have a lot to learn about your people and their ways.”

I could feel Ceren straining to hear us, but there was too much chatter in the room.

“They are your people now,” Talin said.

They were no more my people than the Varenians were Ceren’s, but I nodded anyway. I wanted to ask him about his trip to Ilara, why he hadn’t told us he was a prince. I wanted to know if he recognized me. I wanted to know if he’d thought of me after he left Varenia, or if I’d merely been an insignificant detail in his report to Ceren about Varenia.

And, ridiculous as it was, I found myself wanting to brush away the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

But I couldn’t. He had to believe I was Zadie, and I was destined to marry his brother either way.

I shivered, wishing I’d worn a warmer gown.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice so soft I wondered if I’d imagined it.

Though the compliment pleased me, I couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing that Ceren was watching us. “Thank you.”

“How is your family?” he asked, sitting back a bit while a servant filled his cup with wine.

“I’m not sure,” I said. What was happening between Sami and Zadie? Had Mother forgiven her yet? Had she forgiven me? Were they hungry, or was Father managing to catch enough fish to feed them?

“But they were well when you left?”

I shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”

“Nor must have been very sad to see you go.”

My eyes flew to his involuntarily. There was no flicker of doubt there. Surely if he knew I was Nor, he would say something. “She was heartbroken.”

“I’m sorry. I can only imagine what a loss it must be.”

I closed my eyes to keep them from filling with tears. It was the first time someone here had acknowledged that coming to Ilara was a sacrifice. “I was deeply saddened to learn of your mother’s passing. I would have liked to have known her.”

“She would have treated you like a daughter.” His voice was thick with empathy, something I never would have expected here. He couldn’t know how much his words both pleased and saddened me.

“I would have liked that very much,” I managed.

There was a commotion at the end of the table as the king rose with the help of a strapping lord, raising his cup in a toast. As he spoke of “our beautiful future queen,” a hundred eyes fell on me.

I rose and raised my glass, murmuring a barely audible thank-you. As I sat back down in my chair, my sweaty palm slipped on the wooden armrest, and I listed to the side. Talin reached out and caught my arm in his hand, propping me back upright in my chair.

“I’d blame the wine, but you haven’t tasted yours yet,” he said.

“I’m just nervous.” I glanced at his hand, still lingering on my arm. “All of this is so new to me.”

He leaned closer to be heard above the conversation, and I inhaled as quietly as possible. He smelled like sunlight, like fresh air and living things. “My mother used to feel out of place at these dinners, as well. She didn’t speak much about Varenia, but I could always tell when she was thinking of home.”

Home. The word was too small for everything it meant: the ocean, our house, my parents, Zadie. Why had I wanted to leave?

“Did she ever feel at home here?” I asked, searching his eyes. “Did she ever belong?”

He frowned. “I don’t know the answer to that, I’m afraid.” He lowered his voice further and slowly loosened his grip. His trailing fingers left heat in their wake, unlike the chill I’d felt at Ceren’s touch. “You would be wise to spend less of your time talking to me and more with my brother. He isn’t pleasant when he’s jealous.”

“Is he ever pleasant?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Talin’s eyes crinkled as his lips curled in the tiniest smile. “This should be interesting,” he said, before straightening in his chair and turning to the lady on his other side.

I spent most of the meal listening to the conversations that bubbled around me. Unable to join the chatter because of where he sat, Ceren sipped his wine and tasted his food, but it was clear he took no joy in any of it. His cold eyes drifted around the room, and I dreaded the moments they landed on me.

I had lost count of the courses when two servants appeared with a platter that they placed directly in front of me. In the center was a large pie, as fat as a giant sea turtle. Everyone turned to stare as Ceren rose and came to stand behind me.

“I had this baked especially for you,” he said in my ear. “Do you like it?”

His right cheek brushed against my left, blocking my view of Talin. His skin was cool and smooth against my flushed skin. “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

Ceren took up the filigree serving fork and knife and cut carefully into the pastry on either side of me, the way you would for a child. He continued to cut in a wedge, and then he carefully pulled away the layer of crust. Something stirred in the dark recess, and everyone at the table leaned forward just a bit. I found myself wanting to press back, but I couldn’t with Ceren standing behind me.

“Patience,” he said.

A black, winged creature burst through the pastry with a shrill cry and flapped madly toward the ceiling.

“They’re birds!” someone shouted to a smattering of applause.

But I’d seen birds many times in my life, and they didn’t fly the way this creature did, erratic and unpredictable. A moment later, another one emerged, using the little claws at the tops of its leathery wings to work its way out.