Across the street, Jianyu materialized out of the night and began to walk toward him.
“What news did you find?”
Jianyu shook his head. “No one’s talking. Khafre Hall is dark. If this is the Order’s doing, they are very quiet.”
“It couldn’t be anything but the Order’s doing,” Dolph argued. “Things are changing, and I can’t say they’re changing for the better.” He glanced over to Jianyu, read the stiffness in the boy’s spine, the closed expression on his face. “About earlier . . . I’m sorry for what Viola did.”
Jianyu’s expression didn’t change. “She was afraid. People do all manner of things when fear drives their hearts.”
“Still. ?You’re one of us, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that. The people in the bar, the things they said earlier? They don’t speak for me, and they won’t be allowed to darken my doorway again.”
Jianyu inclined his head, but he didn’t respond, and Dolph couldn’t tell if he believed the sincerity of his apology or not.
Dolph couldn’t blame him. After all Jianyu had been through, after all the city and the country had done to his people, why would he trust anyone, much less Dolph, who made it his business to remain as mysterious and unknowable as he could?
“You’ll keep looking?” Dolph asked. “For Tilly?” he added, knowing that whatever Jianyu might think of him, he would do what he could for the girl.
“Of course,” he said, and with another small bow, he disappeared into the night.
The weight of the night on his shoulders, Dolph turned back toward the Bowery, back toward Golde’s apartment and the empty place at her table. Back to his streets, his own home, and all the people he was no longer sure he could protect.
A ROOM FILLED WITH FEAR
As the sky started to lighten outside Viola’s window, Esta rubbed her eyes and stretched out the kinks in her back. ?She had finally convinced Viola to give Tilly more Nitewein a few hours before dawn. The first person who had offered her kindness in this city was now slumped on her side in the bed, her thin shift damp with sweat, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She looked three feet from death’s doorstep, but at least she wasn’t screaming anymore.
Esta dipped the rag back into the bucket of murky water and placed it against Tilly’s feverish forehead once again. At the feel of the cool cloth, Tilly moaned.
Viola paused until Tilly settled again, but then continued to pace in the corner of the small room.
“You can sit down anytime now,” Esta told her. So much for the cold, fearless assassin—Viola had been wearing a hole in the floor for most of the night.
“I still don’t like it. Tilly, she never had the Nitewein. She would have hated to be like this,”? Viola said, her voice trembling as she gestured vaguely toward the girl in the bed.
“She wasn’t exactly having the time of her life with all the screaming and moaning,” Esta muttered. If she thought Viola would accept sympathy, Esta would have offered it. Instead, she gave Viola something to strike back at, a distraction from her worry.
“What did you say?” Viola demanded.
“Nothing. Never mind.” Esta dipped the rag and placed it against Tilly’s feverish brow again. Neither of them spoke for a long while, but Viola’s fear filled the room as she resumed her pacing.
“Does she know how you feel?” Esta asked softly, not looking at Viola.
Viola’s footsteps went still and a long, uncomfortable moment passed during which Esta wondered if she’d gone too far. But then . . .
“No,” ?Viola said, her voice barely a breath but containing more heartbreak than a single word should be able to hold.
Esta met Viola’s eyes. “You never told her?”
Viola let out a ragged breath and looked at the bed where Tilly lay. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Her friendship is enough.”
Esta took the cloth and dipped it back into the water, not knowing what to say, what comfort to offer. She didn’t know if ?Tilly had known or understood how Viola felt, but from the warm smiles she’d seen the two share, Esta couldn’t help but think that maybe she did. And Esta knew Tilly cared for Viola, even if it wasn’t in quite the same way. Still, she wasn’t sure whether saying anything would help Viola or make things worse, so she kept her thoughts to herself.
But she stayed.
The morning passed slowly into afternoon, the streets outside the window growing noisy with the business of the day, but nothing inside the room had changed. Tilly had not improved . . . if anything, she seemed to be more pale and her cries more desperate every time the Nitewein began to wear off.
Tilly’s cries had Viola strung tight as a garrote wire, and when Viola’s temper snapped each time they had to give Tilly more Nitewein, Esta’s was the only exposed throat in the room. Which would have been an easier burden to shoulder if Esta wasn’t aware of just how deadly Viola could be. By the afternoon, Esta’s shoulders were tight and her eyes felt like someone had thrown sand into them from the lack of sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and as much as she wanted to help Tilly, she wished someone—anyone—would come and relieve her.
As if in answer, the door to the room opened, its uneven hinges creaking, and Dolph Saunders limped into the room. His hair was a riot of waves around his face, and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. When she saw him, Viola stepped forward, putting herself between Dolph and Tilly.
“Stand down, Vi. I’m not here for that,” Dolph told her, sounding tired and drawn. “And despite your impressive skills, you know well enough that you couldn’t stop me if I were.”
Viola’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t argue.
Dolph turned to Esta. “Have you slept any?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“About as much as you did, from the looks of it,” Esta told him.
“You’ve been here all day?” He seemed surprised.
“Most of the night, too. It’s not like I could sleep with the noise she was making.” She nodded toward Tilly.
“Noise?” Dolph asked, looking at Viola.
“Mostly it was the screaming that kept me up,” Esta told him. She shrugged, willing away her own exhaustion. “I thought I might as well help since I wasn’t getting any sleep.”
“She should have been sedated.” Dolph glared at Viola.
Viola crossed her arms. “She is now, if that makes you happy.”
“Immensely,” he drawled. Then he turned back to Esta. “How is she faring?”
“I don’t have any idea. She’s quiet now, though.”
Viola stepped forward. “She’ll come through. Don’t you worry none.”
With an impatient glare, Dolph turned to Viola. “I’ll worry when I’m ready to, and not a second before.” Then his tired expression seemed to soften as he leaned into his cane. “We’ll give her a bit more time. Keep her sedated this time,” he told Viola sternly.