Roarke didn’t know what kind of god he had offended.

Or flattered.

This wasn’t a rhetorical statement. He was genuinely uncertain whether the universe was punishing him or rewarding him.

In his hand was a ring. A simple thing to look at and quite unassuming... yet held an unbelievable power. The kind of power that assassins dreamed of, that spies would kill for, that entire intelligence networks would dismantle themselves to possess.

It concealed presence.

Not merely sight, but presence. As long as no voice escaped, no touch connected, and no scent betrayed. As long as you didn’t speak, touch, or emit scent, you didn’t exist.

Presence Concealing Ring, the Divine Dragon had called it.

Yes. That was another thing.

Apparently, he was serving a Divine Dragon.

Roarke had spent the better part of his life cultivating a reputation as the continent’s most reliable, most untraceable assassin. He had killed lords and chiefs and people whose names appeared in history books.

He had navigated the underworld and believed that nothing could surprise him anymore.

And then Lady Sees, no, Luna Sees, had materialized beside him at a frozen riverbank from nothing, her red lips curving beneath a black veil, and had unfurled a pair of pure white dragon wings like she was stretching after a nap.

Divine Dragon. Divine white dragon, the rarest bloodline, the ancient lineage. The kind of being that appeared in temple murals and childhood bedtime stories.

Roarke was serving her. Roarke, the assassin, the half-breed wolf, the man who had been bought from slavery at twelve years old by Arkai Dawnoro and had repaid that debt by making the worst mistake ever conceived, yes, him, Roarke was now a retainer to a divine dragon.

Also, apparently, Arkai Dawnoro had married a divine dragon.

Also, apparently, his son, Rinne, called that divine dragon Mother.

Right?

Crazy!

But that was not all.

The Divine Dragon had given this ring to him. Lent it, perhaps, or bestowed it. The distinction was unclear. What was clear was its purpose, which the Luna had explained casually.

’For spying purposes.’ Yes, that made sense. The ring would make surveillance laughably easy. Information gathering, observation, all the things he was already doing, but now with the added benefit of being literally incomprehensible.

And—

And to attend Arkai’s birthday.

The Luna had suggested... no, offered this, as though it were a small thing. A kindness.

For him to come at midnight. She would allow him to watch their little celebration from outside the window.

Watch, she had said, but not be part of anything. Just watch, invisible and silent, as the family he had failed celebrated the man he had betrayed.

This way, Roarke could stand by the garden and look through the window and see Arkai Dawnoro, his master, his brother in all but blood, the wolf who had pulled him from slavery when they were both twelve years old, blowing out candles on a cake that Roarke would never taste.

This way, he could see Rinne, standing beside Arkai.

Calling Arkai Father. Calling the Divine Dragon Mother. Smiling, perhaps. Laughing, perhaps. Living a life that Roarke had no right to witness.

This way, he could be there. And not there at the same time.

Thus, the Presence Concealing Ring felt very heavy in his hand.

"Father Rohan?"

A voice came from behind him. Roarke turned to see Bimo wrestling a full bucket of hot water through the corridor. Steam rose from its surface in lazy curls, but Bimo carried easily. He had been hauling things twice his weight since before he learned to read, after all.

The temple was, as usual, busy. And Bimo, Angel’s Bunny, was everywhere. Sweeping floors, fetching water, carrying messages... The perfect, invisible servant as usual.

"What is that for?" Roarke asked.

"For you to wash up." Bimo walked past him, leading the way toward Father Rohan’s modest quarters, the water sloshing gently against the sides of the bucket. "You are ’not feeling well,’ right?"

Bimo knew exactly why Roarke was taking the evening off. He knew everything. That was, after all, his job.

’Not feeling well.’

Yes. That was the excuse.

Father Rohan had a headache and needed rest, so he would be retiring early tonight, and no one should disturb him. If anyone asked, he was definitely in his room, asleep, and definitely not sneaking out to spy on the Black Wolf King’s birthday celebration through a window like a ghost haunting his own mistakes.

To see his brother and master... the man Sienna had loved with everything she had, both ugly and beautiful.

He had returned because he had heard that Arkai had found himself a Luna. He had been worried for Arkai and Rinne, worried that this mysterious Luna might be a threat.

But apparently he did not need to be worried at all.

Arkai had married a dragon.

"Since you are not feeling well—" Bimo’s voice cut through his thoughts. "—I will help you wash up, and you can rest early today, Father!"

The boy set the bucket down beside the washbasin in Father Rohan’s modest quarters. The room was small but clean, exactly what one would expect from a humble temple healer. Shelves of dried herbs, a mortar and pestle, a narrow cot with a wool blanket... nothing personal.

"Thank you, Bimo." Roarke said steadily. "I will count on yo—"

He stopped.

Through the doorway, in the temple’s courtyard, a figure stood watching him. It was a half-beast weretiger, his massive frame casting a long shadow in the fading afternoon light. His eyes were fixed on Roarke.

Ah. The weretiger gestured for him to come.

Roarke felt a bit of an annoyance.

What was this now? He did not have time for this. He had a birthday to attend. What if he got late?

But Father Rohan was a temple healer who would not turn away strangers in the courtyard. Father Rohan did not have urgent, secret appointments to keep.

"Wait for me inside, Bimo." He said. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Bimo blinked. His wide, innocent eyes flicked toward the courtyard and saw the weretiger. The young spy catalogued the threat and then returned to Roarke’s face.

"Okay." He smiled without question. He knew when to be invisible, after all.

Roarke walked toward the courtyard unhurriedly. Inside, his mind was racing.

What did Arzhen Vasiliev’s aide want from him?