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could see was Thalia under Hamel’s arm, smiling and laughing as the nobleman pulled her even closer. Hamel’s lips against her hair as he whispered in her ear. And to add insult to injury, she was now back in her homespun gown with her makeup removed, playing the innocent.
    “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.
    She didn’t say anything, just turned away from him so that her hair hid her face from view. James’s anger boiled over. He grabbed her wrist. Too forcefully, and she gasped.
    “Did you go to his bed?”
    “What is it to you?” she said.
    Part of him had still hoped she’d deny it. James’s lips curled in disgust. “You really are dedicated, aren't you? If you’re planning to use Hamel to reach your mark, you’re playing with fire. One wrong step with him—”
    It seemed that something snapped in her, because her timidity fell away. Thalia whipped her head up, eyes ablaze. “Don’t be blind, James. Look at me. Do you think I enjoyed it?”
    They were almost nose to nose, and her voice was threatening to crack. It was enough to make him pause. He pulled back and took in the hollow hopelessness of her face, the pallor of her skin. She watched him, eyes wide. Then Thalia seemed to gather herself. She stood up on her toes, eyes half lidded, and touched her lips to his. He knew she was just trying to distract him, to give him what she thought he desired. For a long moment, he stood unmoving against the pressure of her lips, but finally he tilted his face ever so slightly to meet hers.
    This was the signal she was waiting for. Thalia pressed into him, urgent now, and a rush of heat filled James. Her lips were soft, her breath warm. He’d known he wanted her, but hadn’t realized how much. Thalia’s body was strong but pliant, just as he’d imagined, her restless fingers finding purchase in his arms and his shoulders. He buried his fingers in her hair, his frustration adding a savagery to his movements as he bore her toward his bed, sliding his hands down her back to pull at the lacing of her gown.
    Only to see, in his mind’s eye, Hamel doing the same thing hours earlier.
    He pushed her away. She gasped and fell onto the bed.
    “What are you doing?” His voice was hoarse, and he struggled to catch his breath.
    Slowly, she came to her senses. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes uncertain. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
    He stepped away from her, putting space between them. “No more secrets, Thalia. What are you really trying to do?”
    She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. For a long time, she stood there, caught between speaking and silence.
    “Hamel is my mark,” she finally said. She watched him, her back straight, bracing herself for his reaction.
    “Hamel?” For a moment, that was all that came out of his mouth. “You're mad,” he finally said. “You told me that your mark was not very powerful.”
    Her chin lifted slightly. “You wouldn’t have helped me otherwise.”
    “You’re right. I wouldn’t have. He's likely been trained in combat from birth. He goes nowhere without his bodyguards. Even if you get a weapon past them, even if you kill him and escape, Hamel has so many connections, even in the city. If the Red Shields don’t get you, then the Guild will.” He stopped, remembering where she had just come from. “Wait, did you . . .”
    She deflated at his question. “His bodyguards took my dagger before they left us alone. I told them I kept it to protect myself against drunk patrons, but they’re watching me now, and they’ll be searching me even more carefully in the future. There’s no way I can get a knife past them now.” She stared past James, eyes bleak. Then she resolutely shook her head. “It doesn't matter. I've come this far. I'll find another way. I have to.”
         
    *     *     *

    If Rand or Bacchus noticed that James and Thalia avoided talking that night, neither of them mentioned it. His two friends