“Kyra of Forge.” Willem’s voice was sharp as a raptor’s, and there was a hardness in his gaze. “Be careful you do not overstep your bounds.” He left without waiting for a reply. Kyra clenched her jaw until it hurt.
Tristam opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Lord Agan’s sons approached. Santon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Kyra’s fingers curled for her knife. Next to her, Tristam moved his hand closer to his scabbard.
“Kyra of Forge, is it?” said Santon. “So you weren’t lying about being in Malikel’s service. Though I suppose it makes sense. More convenient for him than going to a brothel.”
Kyra felt Tristam’s hand clamp around her wrist, and none too quickly. “Watch your words, Santon,” he said. “You’re not untouchable.”
“Perhaps you should follow your own advice, Red Shield.” Santon’s voice dripped with contempt. Tristam’s grip on Kyra remained firm as Santon and his brothers walked away.
I could kill you in your sleep, Kyra thought to their retreating forms. I could slip right past your bodyguards and have you begging for mercy. Let’s see how cocky you can be when you don’t have Willem’s skirts to hide under.
“Kyra.” Tristam still hadn’t let go of her. She tried to pull her arm away, but he didn’t budge. “Kyra, it’s not worth it.”
“What’s not worth it? Idalee’s life?”
“Doing something stupid because you’re angry,” he said. “Promise me you won’t go after them. Ending up under another death sentence will do you no good at all.”
She stared at Santon and his brothers. They were still talking and laughing, their voices fading as they walked away. Kyra wrenched her arm from Tristam’s grip. “Funny that you say Malikel can’t walk in and do what he wishes,” she said. “Seems to me that if you know the right people and have enough coin, you can do exactly as you wish.”
S I X
Kyra lay awake that night and combed through her memories of James—not the most recent ones, where he’d betrayed her and tried to kill her, but their interactions from earlier. There had been a time when she and James had been in accord, surprisingly so. He’d been the one to show her that she could be more than a petty thief, that she could use her skills to correct wrongs done by the wallhuggers. Discovering her own power had been exhilarating, and James had shown real pride in her progress. They both took pleasure in bringing the fatpurses down a notch, in hitting the nobles where they thought themselves invulnerable. Kyra had admired James once, and—if she was honest with herself—had been attracted to him as well. Which had made it all the more devastating when he’d turned against her.
In the end, they’d disagreed not on their goals but the means by which to accomplish them. She’d refused to shed innocent blood, and he’d called her na?ve. We’re dealing with the Palace and the Council, the most powerful men in the three cities, and the swords they control, he’d told her. You don’t win this war with petty raids on their storehouses. You draw blood. That had been his philosophy, that it simply wasn’t possible to end the abuses by the wallhuggers without a costly fight. If someone had asked Kyra a week ago whether she agreed with James, she would have said no.
Kyra hadn’t seen James since his capture. Even before the Council’s explicit prohibition, she’d kept her distance. James knew too much about Kyra, and he still embodied too many painful memories. It had made sense to stay away. But now…