“But Chez is your third...” She bit her lip. “I thought oaths prevented things like this.”
Levi took a deep, shameful breath. “It’s called a challenge, when someone tries to overthrow the lord. It’s normally a duel to the death. And it would’ve been, if Jac hadn’t shown up.”
She made a face like she was the one who was ill, exactly the sort of pity Levi didn’t need.
“Never mind that,” he said quickly. “Did you visit the bank today?”
She gave him a pointed look, like she knew he was stalling. “Yes. There was barely anything in the vault. We found a strange black orb and an even stranger Mizer token. I don’t know what to think of either of them.”
Levi had never heard of a black orb before. “Can I take a look at the orb?”
“Yes, I’ll bring it tomorrow,” she answered. “There was an address listed on the account. Some place called the Street of the Holy Tombs. Lola said it was in Olde Town.”
Levi crinkled his nose. “I know that place. Mysterious black orbs and old coins? That’s exactly the neighborhood you’re looking for. It’s full of the Faithful. Gives me the creeps just to walk through it.”
“Well, I’m going tomorrow to call on a woman named Zula Slyk.” The name sounded vaguely familiar to Levi, but he couldn’t remember why. Enne hesitated for a moment before continuing. “It would be great if you could come with me, but do you think you’ll feel up for it?”
“Of course I will.” He cracked his neck. “Takes more than a broken rib and a cut to slow me down.”
Truthfully, entering Iron Land was a dangerous notion right now, but Olde Town was his territory, his claim. He refused to let himself fear it. Besides, he’d brave worse than that for Enne—all she had to do was ask.
“Lola also suggested trying Scrap Market, if this doesn’t pan out.” Her face was doing that expressionless thing—she was upset.
What he should’ve done was console her. Of course something would turn up. Problem was, that something would probably be Lourdes’s corpse. Levi was already struggling to pick up the pieces of his own shattered life—he couldn’t bear to watch Enne go through that, too.
Instead, he said, “Scrap Market is a bad idea. It’s dangerous, now that Scavenger is Scar Lord. I wouldn’t risk it myself even if I didn’t get the muck kicked out of me today. And you shouldn’t go, either.”
“I wasn’t asking for your permission,” she snapped. His instincts were correct—she was definitely upset.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know that. I just think it’s better if you stay away from there.” His voice sounded more forceful than he meant it to.
She pushed his hand off her. “I know you’ve had a bad day, Levi, but don’t do this. I don’t need to be patronized.”
He sighed. “I know that. I’m just...” Trying to protect you. He pulled the box of cookies out of his pocket. “I brought you these. Truce?”
The corner of her lips tilted into a smile. “Thanks,” she said, tearing into the box, easily appeased.
He shifted the weight off his bad leg and closed his eyes. Even so, he could still feel the pity of Enne’s stare.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re sorry for me.” He shook his head. “I deserved what I got.” He meant it, too. It was a hollow feeling—less like guilt and more like dejection. He was a pawn playing at being king. If he’d ever been anything more, if he was ever meant to be anything more, he wouldn’t have fallen so low. Saint or crook, it didn’t matter; if New Reynes was a game, then he’d already lost.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Under different circumstances, maybe he would’ve told her the truth. He wanted to. Someone stronger than himself needed to hold him accountable for what he’d done to the Irons. It would be easy—all he needed to do was pull the two Shadow Cards out of his pocket.
I never pretended to be a good man, he’d say. But I never wanted to be this.
But he didn’t tell her. Not because of the shame, but because he knew that he was a trouble she didn’t need. Enne’s omerta was just another example of how Levi had failed the people who depended on him. The difference between her and him was that she’d given up everything to save someone, and Levi had given up everyone to save himself.
Enne didn’t deserve her own problems—she certainly didn’t deserve Levi’s, too.
Maybe he’d tell her after all of this was over. Iron Lord or not, he would find a way to pay Sedric back. He’d lost nearly everything to the city’s game, but he wouldn’t lose his life.
Only five days from now, when the worst was behind him, he’d tell her about all the wrongs he’d committed and all the people he cheated.
He would tell her how sorry he was for the role he’d played with her and Vianca.
And he would tell her that, even after losing everything he’d ever wanted, he still desperately wanted her.
“I didn’t mean anything,” he said. But when he met her eyes, he could tell that she didn’t believe him. He fought back the urge to reach out and touch her again—on her shoulder, her hand, her waist. Even if he stepped closer, it wouldn’t feel close enough. Enne was becoming more to him than just an attraction. She was the girl who’d come afraid to the city that could smell your fear. She’d faced the witch. She’d poisoned the wolf. She’d strolled into the land of death with her head held high and left it a lord. She was an impossible player in a fixed game, the only person not playing to win.
Maybe Levi had spent too many nights dreaming of the legends of these streets, fantasizing about the day he’d get to finally show his hand. Even after he’d lost, Enne was a fascination, a temptation and a delirious hope that the game wasn’t over, but only just beginning.
She grabbed his left hand, not to hold it, but to turn it over. She traced a finger over the spade tattoo on his arm with a thoughtful expression on her face. She looked at it as if it were a scar.
“You look more lost than I do,” Enne said, her voice hinting at both laughter and sadness.
In that moment, he didn’t feel lost. But he would as soon as she let go.
Suddenly, the air smelled like warm, dark blue, and tasted of bourbon with a trace of espresso. It moved in swirls, like the caress of the wind picking up before a storm. Surprised, he let out a faint moan from the back of his throat. She smelled like a Gambler’s Ruin.
It’d been over four years since he’d sensed a new aura, and it came upon him so unexpectedly that he almost staggered. It was so different from the others he’d known before: the quiet whisper of Jac’s gray, the avarice laced in Vianca’s green, the volatile flames of his father’s red. Enne’s aura made him dizzy, like he’d stared too long at the spaces between the stars, or dived too deep from shallows into ocean. It felt tangible enough to lace between his fingers, though it looked like curls of smoke. In the dim lighting of the hallway, it danced eerily across the carpet, the billowing train of a sapphire gown, the twisting of beasts and passions in her shadow.
Six days was an extraordinarily short time for him to start sensing an aura. And, as she held his arm, her gaze locked on his, her lips poised between boldness and uncertainty, the more five days from now seemed an excruciatingly long time to wait.
Just as his desire was about to overwhelm his sense of logic, Enne let go of him and took several steps back. Her reaction shouldn’t have surprised him. They’d reached this moment before, and time after time, she’d made it clear what she did and didn’t want.
“I should go,” she said suddenly. “Back to the troupe, I mean. They’ll wonder where I am.”
You’re right outside the dressing room, he thought. But Levi knew excuses—and rejection—when he heard it. The last thing he should be focusing on right now was romance, but still, her words stung.
“The Street of the Holy Tombs,” he said, dragging their conversation—and their relationship—back to business. “Ten, tomorrow morning. You won’t be missing me this time.”