The rain outside the mansion did not fall so much as it hammered, a steady, rhythmic drumming against the high leaded glass of the east wing.

By morning, the fire in the gallery had been extinguished, leaving behind the dark, sweet scent of charred oak and salt air blowing through the shattered bay windows.

The rain had finally cleared. For the first time in three weeks, the sun broke over the harbor in brilliant streaks of gold and clear blue, reflecting off the calm water like millions of tiny diamonds.

Saurin stood on the lower terrace overlooking the docks, his arm wrapped in clean white bandages beneath his dark coat.

Below, three large merchant vessels bearing the blue gull flag were unmooring, their white sails unfurling into the morning breeze as they prepared to head north toward the pass.

A soft step sounded on the stone terrace behind him.

Vesna walked out into the sunlight. She wore a simple dress of gray wool, her dark hair tied back with a blue ribbon, her face pale but clean. She carried a small leather travel bag in her hand.

Saurin turned around, his eyebrows drawing together into a sharp line as his eyes fell on the bag. "What is that?"

"The carriage for the northern province leaves at ten," she said softly, stopping three paces from him. "Luka is waiting for me at the school. He needs his sister, Saurin."

Saurin stared at her, his jaw tightening until the muscle beneath his ear throbbed. "I told you that you were no longer a domestic worker in this house."

"I know," she offered a gentle, sad smile that made his heart ache. "And you have given me more than I could ever earn in three lifetimes. My brother is cured. My debts are gone. But... I cannot stay here as a ghost, Saurin. This house... it belongs to the Vosa name. To the ports. To the war you just finished."

"The war is over," Saurin growled, taking two long strides toward her, closing the distance until his boots touched the hem of her skirt. "The Drazzas are in the high prison. Their ships have been impounded. Casian will spend the rest of his life in the salt mines."

He reached down, his big, bandaged hand taking her small leather bag and dropping it onto the flagstones without looking at it.

"I didn't burn my gallery to send you away on a stagecoach, Vesna."

Vesna looked up into his gray eyes, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. "Then what am I doing here, Saurin? I am a doctor's daughter from the Dovat Quarter. I don't know how to run a household of seventy servants. I don't know how to speak to harbor lords."

"Good," Saurin said, his hands reaching out to frame her face, his long fingers tangling in her dark hair. "Because the harbor lords are lying thieves, and the domestic staff was full of traitors. I don't need a woman who knows how to hold a teacup while her father plans a murder."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his voice dropping into a rough, desperate whisper that vibrated against her lips.

"I need the woman who sat on a cold tiled floor with a wounded hound because she couldn't bear to let him die alone. I need the woman who hit a lord with a brass candlestick to save my life. I need you, Vesna."

Vesna let out a shaky, broken breath, her hands flying to his chest, her fingers clutching his dark coat. "Saurin..."

"Stay," he begged—a word that Saurin Vosa had never spoken to another living soul in his thirty years on the coast. "Stay here. Build the room with the open windows. Bring Luka here—we will hire three tutors for him and buy him his own pony. Just... do not leave me in this house alone again."

A sob broke from Vesna’s throat, but it was swallowed by a sudden, radiant laugh that lit up her entire face like the morning sun over the sea.

"You are very bossy for a man who just got hit with a crossbow bolt," she whispered, her hands sliding up to wrap around his neck.

"I am a warden," he murmured, his mouth hovering an inch from hers. "And I am locking you in."