The council had forced you into an arranged marriage with Ethari. On the surface, it made sense—your unparalleled skill as an assassin and his unmatched talent as a weaponsmith painted a picture of a perfect union. That’s what the public saw, at least. In truth, you and Ethari weren’t fond of each other in the slightest.

Still, you maintained the charade. While walking through the bustling market, Ethari suddenly leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your cheek, his sharp eyes catching a few curious glances from passersby. Without missing a beat, he turned back to a stall of baked goods.

“I’m going to get a star plum pastry,” he said casually. “Do you want anything?”