He drew back like her words hurt. Why? He’d already thrown her away. He didn’t care about her or what she said or thought or felt. Why feign the hurt now, when he’d already gotten what he wanted?
The amarinth wasn’t hers. It never had been. It was Rone’s problem.
“Sandis.” He grabbed her arm.
She wrenched it from his grasp. “I’m going to find Talbur.”
He rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes! Fury burned her hotter than any of Ireth’s visions.
So she ran. Her sore feet slammed into the cobblestones. She ran past a group of factory workers dragging their tired bodies to work. Past a dog sniffing around an overflowing garbage bin.
Ran until her lungs burned and forced her to stop. She doubled over and put her hands on her knees.
She didn’t know whether to cringe or cry when Rone’s footsteps closed in on her. If only she could forget. If only she could pretend that it was all right now, that nothing bad had ever happened between them. If only she could throw the broken pieces of her heart into the gutter and ignorantly hold on to Rone’s arm, the way she had the day he’d sold her to the evilest man in Dresberg.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
“Sandis.” He was wearing her name thin with how much he said it. “Where. Are. You. Going?”
“I have an address.”
He stood straighter. “What?”
Taking a deep breath, Sandis squared her shoulders and looked Rone in the eyes, forcing herself not to feel anything.
That much, at least, she could pretend.
“I found the bank record in Kazen’s office. The one with Talbur’s name on it. I know where he is.”
Rone planted his hands on his hips. Looked at the ground. Nodded. “All right. Where?”
“I don’t need any more of your favors, Rone.”
His expression darkened. “Where?”
She pressed her lips together. Held his gaze for a long moment, until the intensity of it forced her to look away. “Fourteen Magdara.”
She started walking again, ignoring the waking flies on the garbage bins she passed.
“Wait, what?” Rone called behind her. He sprinted in front of her, forcing her to stop. “What did you say?”
“I was clear, wasn’t I? Fourteen Magdara. It was a recent record. I’m going.”
His jaw slackened. Sandis stepped around him.
“Stop.” He grabbed her arm.
Again, she wrenched it free and kept walking.
“Sandis, for the love of the Celestial, stop!”
She stopped. Glared at him. “Why? Why should I?”
His eyes were wide, his face slack. He looked young, vulnerable. Sandis thought to reach out to him, but both arms remained glued to her sides.
“Because,” he said, low and dark, “that’s the address of the man who hired me to turn you in.”
Of all the things Rone could have said, those were the last words she expected.
She retreated. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then it’s a shared building—”
“It’s a single-story office space with a basement,” he pressed. “Outdated. Barely enough room for a small shop. If he used that address on the bank record, then he either owns the place or is the sole renter.”
Sandis shook her head. “You’re lying.”
Rone sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Why, after everything I’ve done, would I lie about this?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything about him. Not anymore.
“Fourteen Magdara,” Rone repeated. “It’s the same. I’d show you the paper if I still had it.”
“I’m going anyway.”
The declaration surprised her as much as it did Rone. Silence cut the space between them for only a second before Rone threw his hands into the air. “Are you insane?”
They must have been close to a clock tower, for the first gong of the hour vibrated down Sandis’s body and into the cobblestones.
“I’m going.” Second gong.
Rone shook his head. Turned away from her. Third gong. Spun back.
“He sold you.” Fourth gong.
Sandis glowered. “You sold me.” Fifth.
Rone growled. “That’s not fair.”
Now Sandis threw out her arms. “How is that not fair?”
Sixth gong, and the clock quieted.
Rone winced. Rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Fine. But I’m going with you. I don’t trust the guy.”
Sandis scoffed.
“You’re going the wrong way.” He turned around and trudged back for the main street. “Unless you want to get caught in the red-light district.”
Sandis opened her mouth, closed it. Balled her hands into fists.
Ignoring the splintering in her chest, she followed him.
The building wasn’t grand in the slightest. It was an old structure in an even older part of town. Nondescript, wedged next to a set of flats with updated windows and fancy, curling eaves. An iron fence surrounded it on three sides. The sky was overcast, so even with the sun up, everything looked gray and dreary.
But appearances could be deceiving. Sandis had learned that in the hardest way possible.
“Are you sure?”
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t respond.
She should be the one to open the door. She half expected to find it locked, but the handle turned easily with a little pressure.
The smell of chloride lime made her sick. It was too similar to the summoning room, though the undercurrent of foul smells from Kazen’s lair were lacking in this place. It’s just clean, she told herself. Clean, and sparse. There was one chair for guests, a single desk with an immaculate woman sitting behind it, and a plant in the corner. A real plant. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
Her tamped hope dared to flicker.
The woman looked up. “Ah, Mr. Verlad. We have no appointments with you today.” She glanced at Sandis and raised an eyebrow.
Something about what she said, about the look she gave, made Sandis shrink in on herself. So this is it, she thought. This was where Rone came while she waited for him at Kurtz’s home. Or had he made the arrangement earlier, while she fretted at the inn? This was where he’d made the deal to trade her life for pocket money. Sandis couldn’t help but think she was worth more than paper.
She’d thought he’d valued her more than that, at least.
She swallowed to prevent her throat from swelling. Cleared it. “I’m here to see Talbur Gwenwig.”
The secretary started. Rone hadn’t known Talbur was the man he’d met here, so the name must have shocked her.
She smoothed back the hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. “Pardon?”
Rone strode past Sandis to the door near the desk. The secretary stood but didn’t stop him from wrenching it open. “I’m guessing he’s in?”
The woman frowned. Nodded.
Sandis didn’t need more of an invitation than that. Keeping her gaze focused ahead of her, she passed Rone and started down a cramped set of stairs into a cold basement. It was all one short hallway with a low ceiling, the sole light coming from a room at the very end, to the right.
She marched toward it. The door was cracked open. Holding her breath, Sandis pushed against the wood and let lamplight spill over her. Rone appeared at her side.
A man about Kazen’s age sat at a desk within the room. His eyes were wide set, but he had her grandfather’s nose, from what she remembered of him. He was stocky, and his thinning brown hair was combed away from his forehead and oiled to stay that way.
The man looked up, his dark eyes first finding Sandis, then drifting up to Rone. He straightened. Opened a drawer and pulled out a cigar and a matchbox.
“Why, Sandis,” he said, striking the match and setting it to the end of his cigar. “I was so hoping I’d get a chance to meet you.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have so much gratitude to give for the fruition of this book. Smoke and Summons is possibly the best book I’ve written to date, and I most certainly didn’t do it alone.