The days leading up to the Grand Tournament flew by quicker than Maize would have liked, and the pressure of still not knowing the identity of Luciana's Legacy increased with every kiss she shared with Laris since they shared his bed. To anyone who didn't know better, she was playing the part of the courtly courtier thriving to serve her prince. The looks she received from those throughout the castle seemed suspicious enough. But who would question her in front of the prince, who remained by her side more often than Maize should have been comfortable with?

On the day before the tournament, on the rare occasion that Laris was required to be in the attendance of his father, Ress decided to do just that. Maize hadn't talked to him since the night he stormed from her room after the Hunt, having only seen him sparingly throughout the castle or assisting Cade as he was used to the crutch he now needed to use as his battered leg healed. Maize had taken the opportunity to escape to the library, finding a comfortable nook on the third floor after she rummaged through the stacks for an armful of books about the royal family history and local lore.

She was just finishing up the recount of the union of Laris' grandparents when a shadow loomed over the text. She didn't startle, not when she had heard him since he breached the stairs and would know his scent from a stack away.

"Restor," she murmured without glancing up from the pages.

"Maizelyn," he said in response, unfazed.

Something about the way he said her formal name curled her toes in her flats and she looked up to meet the same handsomely rugged face she'd come to adore.

The look he gave her, though amused, did not seem as welcoming. But it was enough to make her close her book, placing it beside her as she leaned back to look up at the thief above her. "Yes, I know why we are here. Yes, I am researching. No, I still don't know what it is and no, I do not know how to find out."

"I figured you'd have convinced Laris to scream it out in a moment of passion."

"It's a work in progress."

"Seems like you've got the progress part figured out."

"And how's Cade?" she asked, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile instead of the pleasure of her annoyance.

"He'll heal. He's angrier at his inability to participate in the Tournament tomorrow."

"Findara hasn't decided to take his place to defend his honor?"

Ress glared at her, his lips thin. "No. I have."

Maize stared at him, letting a breath in and out before she stood. "You're what?"

"Cade is allowed a proxy. He doesn't trust anyone else."

"You do understand that serious injury can happen to anyone on that tournament field."

"I'm more than aware, Maize."

"You are not a tournament fighter, Ress."

"And you are not a courtier, but I suppose we all must play the part once in a while."

"And we're supposed to be in a job, remember?"

Ress' head cocked to the side. "I remember. In fact, I think I'm the only one who remembered why we're here." He looked at her closely for a moment, eyes peering as if trying to see through her. "How have you been handling the headaches?"

Maize blinked, almost expecting the searing pain in response. But where she expected the haunted laughter of the revenant to respond was silence and a dull, manageable throb. In fact, it had been days since she heard—or felt—anything from the revenant.

"Have you met with your contact yet?" she asked quietly. She knew he hadn't, or the herbs would have been in her room by now.

"They'll be at the tournament. I'm hoping with the crowds distracted I'll be able to meet them discreetly enough."

"Before or after you die on the tournament field?"

"Better be before then, eh?"

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to smile. But she wanted to do them both with him and he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but there with her.

"I don't want to be here any more than you do," she reassured him, reaching for his hand. To her relief, he didn't pull away. "But we were hired to do a job, and these are the costs of the reward."

"We could back out," he said suddenly. "Pack up and leave in the night. They'd be none the wiser and Lawson Forge would only be incriminating himself if he ever confronted us in the Den."

"But... but what about the money?"

"Damn the money, Maize." Ress squeezed her hand tighter, moving closer. "It's not worth it if this is what we need to live through to get it."

"Live through?" She quickly pulled her hand away, taking a step back. "What about what I have to live through?"

Ress at least had the decency to appear taken aback.

"Every moment of my existence is cursed because of someone else's poor decisions. Every day I wake up with the fear that I'm going to finally give in and hurt myself or someone else I care about. And yet you cannot handle a couple of weeks' worth of discomfort to finally achieve the means we need so that I can finally figure out how to banish what my brother did all those years ago?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do while you're sleeping with the Prince?" Ress hissed.

"Sleeping with Cade?"

"Cut the shit, Maize," he snapped. "If you listened before you acted for once, you'd have learned that Findara's family owns one of the largest ruggoriel farms in Alynthi."

"And what do I care about what they grow?"

"Because, once again, if you actually did some research instead of getting lost in whatever daydream you've discovered, you'd have realized that ruggoriel is the plant that's used for your herbs."

Again, Maize was taken aback. "And how did you come across this information so freely?

"Why do you think I was spending so much time with Cade?"

Maize opened her mouth to give the obvious response, but Ress cast her a glare to cut her off.

"He's been the one I've been talking to about the herb supply in Dreduor. Josue was from Alynthi, and it was just too coincidental to ignore. And my hunch was right."

"You told him about me?" She felt a stab of betrayal deeper than she expected.

"No. Because I also learned that your herbs have a secondary purpose if taken in larger doses more often. Which also makes them incredibly illegal within the city. And most likely elsewhere. So I was able to be discreet enough with the underground network around the castle who pointed their fingers towards the Alynthi arriving for Remembrance Day. And there Cade was."

"So you're telling me that you've been spending all of this extra time with Cade because he's going to supply you with the herbs?"

"I wish. Instead, he told me their recent shipment had already been sent, and there was a courier who was asked to specifically deliver a supply to the herbs to the castle for Remembrance Day."

"Drugs for the partygoers?"

"Specifically at the Prince's request."

The quick response she wanted to snap was stuck on her tongue. In the times she had been with him there never seemed to be anything close to a drug-induced stupor, nothing that would ever hint that he was on something...

Do it do it do it do it

The first time she saw Laris, he was in the library. And he seemed like he was talking to himself. And when the revenant called, he acted as though he heard it too.

And she hadn't heard the voice since she and Laris...

Like calls to like.

Maize looked up to Ress, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks as the revelation sunk in.

"Laris has a revenant."

Ress finally took a seat next to her as they sat in silence, trying to work out the next step in their plan. The Legacy seemed such a small piece of the puzzle compared to all Maize had learned about her most recent lover.

He was cursed. Just like her.

"If Laris also needs the herbs, he must have the supply," Ress said thoughtfully. "And if that's the case, then he knows how to get more."

"But you just said yourself how illegal these herbs are within the city— I can't exactly ask him to let me know the name of his supplier."

"Can't you?" Ress glanced over at her.

Frowning, Maize considered his inquiry. Asking Laris straight had merit, but their connection was too recent and too green she was afraid it would lose her the opportunity for additional questions— namely, the identity of Luciana's Legacy.

But if the purpose of finding the Legacy was so that they could earn enough gold to get them away from Dreduor to someone who could help her learn more about her affliction. If Laris could be that person, was stealing from his family going to be worth it when he could be the wealth of information— and freedom— she so desired?

But then there was the question of Lawson Forge. And Celese. And their connection to all of this. And if Laris truly had reached out to her about the Legacy, her asking about could potentially shift too much attention to her true intentions. There were still too many unanswered questions and not enough answers with too little time to waste.

"Not yet," Maize finally decided. "After the tournament."

"That will only give us three days until Remembrance Day."

"I know," she sighed. "But I'm sitting with Laris and Forge in the King's box... someone must be able to tell me something about the Legacy."

"You don't think Forge would have already asked?"

"I don't think Forge wants to have anything to do with the Legacy, especially after what he tasked us to do. Asking would pin too much suspicion on him being so close to the crown."

"And you don't think you'll raise suspicion asking?"

"The only one who knows I'm not who I say I am is Forge, and again, any inclination he provides towards my true identity will only raise suspicion in his direction."

"It's too risky—"

"Says the one who's going to be proxy for Cade at the tournament."

Ress ran an uneasy hand through his hair. "There may have been a side-agreement for that."

Maize raised an inquisitive eye.

"In addition to feeling like I owed him, he promised to send me a parcel of ruggoriel once he returned to Alynthi for my service."

Closing her eyes, Maize shook her head and stood. They had been in the library too long and would raise too many suspicions if they remained longer. "It's still not worth losing your life over."

His hand grabbed hers, keeping her in place before she could take a step away. "No, but you are."

A lump formed in her throat as she looked back to Ress, the near-desperation in his gaze threatening to melt her on the spot. "No, I'm not."

Ress huffed out a laugh. "Able to ensnare the lowliest thief from the Den to the crown Prince of Dreduor? Yes, Maizelyn. You are."

The damned blush returned to her cheeks as Ress stood before her.

"Three more days," he whispered, leaving the softest of kisses against her lips. "And all of this will be over."

"Three more days and we go back to being thieves indebted to Celese."

A warm smile matched the glean in Ress' eyes. "Three more days and we will have enough money, Celese will be indebted to us."