Turned away from Falken in the dark, Nic dressed in the least wet of her clothes, dragging on damp trousers that resisted her legs. But at least now that the Divinity scouts had cleared the Bagni Bianchi, she and Falken would be free to camp safely near the hot springs’ warmth.

There was no telling whether his word was genuine, of course, but that pure, raw hatred had been doubtless. If he hated the Divinity that much, then he wouldn’t squander the chance to work with her and deal...

Nic didn’t move. Didn’t twitch.

The Bagni Bianchi were often abandoned, as far as this place was from Amiata, and everywhere else. And it had seemed so today, its big, hot pools empty. But somehow she’d missed another presence. It was unlike her, and sloppy.

And presence was the right word. Stark white, like bones or some phantom, with long, pale hair hanging down his body in wet tendrils. His face was the quietly observant expression of a winter wolf peering from among the...

Beneath the warm midday sun, Nic pulled up the hood of her cloak as she disembarked the Nonna, a large Sileni trade vessel. Finally, after two weeks at sea, she’d at last made it to her next job—only the biggest of her life.

The Grand Divinus.

The woman was undoubtedly cruel and power hungry, a worthy sacrifice to Nox, but she was also the head of the Divinity of Magic. Handling her would be a walk on eggshells, followed by a leap through a flaming ring, with a final tiptoe...