And you’re her favorite, Enne thought, wondering what exactly that meant.
She returned to the cookies, while Levi, now in a foul mood, stormed off into the living room. Every now and then she heard him groan something, like “They mentioned Jonas mucking Maccabees but not me” or “Veil founded the first street gang. Not Havoc. Who wrote this shatz book, anyway?”
Then a few minutes passed in silence. Enne laid the cooling sugar cookies on the counter and walked into the living room, expecting to find him asleep.
Instead, he was sitting up on the couch, turning over the empty vial of poison in his hands. Enne froze.
“Black Maiden,” he said grimly. “It’s Vianca’s poison of choice.”
“Where d-did you find that?” she stuttered.
“I went looking. They don’t mention Vianca’s blood talent in the guidebook.” He nodded to it open on the table. “Enne, why do you have this poison?” There was an acute desperation in his voice, in his expression. He stepped close enough that she could smell his cologne, too close to avoid his gaze.
Enne tensed beneath that look. She took a deep breath and tried to form the words, testing the limits of the omerta, what she could say and what she could not.
“Vianca Augustine is a monster,” she managed carefully. “And you knew that. So why did you bring me to her?” Her voice was full of accusation. She didn’t mean that. Or maybe she did.
He blanched as the realization settled in. “What kind of job did she give you?”
“Why would you bring me to her?” Enne hadn’t realized how angry she was until she shouted the words. “You were supposed to help me!” She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him back. “You told me to trust you!”
He looked as though she’d punched him. “I didn’t know. How could I? Vianca can give only three...” He shuddered and didn’t speak the word. “At any time. They’re precious to her. I never would’ve guessed she’d give one to you. You have to believe me.” He sounded genuinely wounded, genuinely desperate. For her? No—it had to be something more.
Then it dawned on her.
Levi continued, his voice strained, “If I had suspected, I’d never—”
“You have one, too,” Enne whispered. “That’s why Reymond said you’re her favorite.”
His nostrils flared. “Of course I have one.” He turned away from her and paced around the living room. “As if I chose to start a scheme that was born to fail. I’ve been scrambling around for months trying to clean it up. Meanwhile, the Irons are as good as broke. They can barely look at me anymore. I can barely look at myself anymore.” He stopped pacing, but he still never faced her. “I was supposed to be something. Instead, I’m hers.” His voice grew hoarse at the last word, as if he might also break down. He fiddled with something silver in his pocket.
“Is it truly unbreakable?” Enne asked quietly. She couldn’t tell who was supposed to be comforting whom. She didn’t know what scheme he was talking about.
He turned to look at her. “Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. “Unless she dies.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“I’m not a killer, no,” he murmured. “But, oh, I would. But I can’t. We can only pray someone else does.”
Any lingering anger she had left disappeared. She’d never seen someone else’s expression so perfectly reflecting her own. They were both trapped. And he hated Vianca. She could hear it in his every word.
Leaving him to cool down for a moment, she brought in a plate of cookies from the kitchen. Six for her, two for him. She sat on the couch, her knees against her chest, making herself small. She ripped a cookie in half and nibbled it from center to crust. Eating felt normal. She’d barely eaten all day.
Levi sat opposite her in an armchair. “I’m sorry.” He said it like he meant it. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know.” And she really did.
“What did she make you do?”
“She didn’t make me do anything.” Enne moved on to her second cookie, her voice low and cold and unrecognizable. “Initially, she did. But by the end, I wanted to, and I don’t feel guilty in the least bit. I’d do it again.” She paused to examine his reflection for any judgment, but his face was unreadable. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“I suppose it depends on what it is you did,” he said uneasily.
She braced herself for the omerta’s constrictions, but felt none. “In Luckluster Casino, Sedric Torren is likely overturning his dinner, and he deserves it.” Apparently, once the secrecy of the omerta was broken, Enne could speak the truth freely. She sighed with relief.
Levi froze while reaching for a cookie. “You poisoned Sedric Torren?”
“He’s not dead—just sick.” Enne shuddered. “There was a childish pink dress. Vianca made me wear it. And it worked. Vianca dressed me up to send me to the slaughter.”
A long moment passed before he whispered, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not crying.”
“I said I’m not hurt.”
“But you cried all morning.”
“I’m tired,” she seethed. And if he kept prodding her, she would cry. It wouldn’t take much. She wasn’t trying to be strong. She just didn’t have it in her to be anything right now.
She stood and grabbed the orb she’d left on the table earlier for Levi, thrusting it at him.
“I’m not taking that,” he said defiantly. “It’s my fault that she found you.”
“You said the Irons were broke.”
“And that’s my fault, too.”
“So fix it.” She shoved the orb into his chest.
“Does she know that you’re Alfero’s daughter?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Good. She can’t know. Ever.” He laid the orb back on her table. “I’m not taking it.”
“But—”
“Don’t you get it?” he yelled. “She owns you. For as long as she’s breathing, you’re trapped in New Reynes. There’s no way out. All those things you said earlier about wanting to return home in the fall? Wanting to finish school? You’ll be lucky if you ever see Bellamy again. You’ll be lucky if you make it out of this city alive.”
The walls of the room suddenly felt smaller, closer. And, at last, Enne began to cry.
“I...” He blinked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” Slowly, hesitantly, he moved closer to her as her shoulders heaved and took her in his arms. His touch was warm. Enne almost slid away, but truthfully, she welcomed the comfort—even from him. She had no one else.
“I’ve never met one of her others,” he murmured. “I’ve always been alone.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“I want to find Lourdes.” She’d never needed her mother as much as she did in this moment. Missing her felt like missing something vital in her chest. It ached as she steadied her sobs.
“I promise we will,” he said. She clung to his words like a life raft.
“But what if Vianca gives me another assignment?” she asked.
“Then you do it. That’s all you can do.” He let her go, and she pulled away from him and wiped her nose. “Tomorrow night, we’ll go to the Sauterelle. We’ll learn what we can about Lourdes.”
She nodded. It was a start. She picked up the orb and handed it to him one more time. “I want you to have it.”
He took it, though she could tell it hurt him to do so. “I promise, Enne.” Her name sounded strange on his lips. He’d always called her “missy.”
“I’m going to help you. We’re in this together, you and I.”
She smiled weakly. They were, in more ways than one.
As he opened the door to leave, she asked, “What were you talking to Sedric about? I saw you speaking earlier, in the Tropps Room.”
He paused and looked back at her for a moment, his expression perfectly blank.
“Nothing,” he said. “We were only talking about a card game.”
Before Enne could ask another question, Levi was already closing the door behind him.
DAY TWO
“If you must visit, reader, then I implore you: remain only on the South Side. Do not cross the Brint. Do not believe their smiles. Do not stray into their lairs. Or you may never come out.”
—The City of Sin, a Guidebook: Where To Go and Where Not To