“Nothing foolish.”
Stix regarded Vivia, her face drawn. “I don’t believe you. You seem … different today.”
Vivia’s eyebrows bounced with surprise—then she realized what Stix meant. She was different today. She’d been so preoccupied, so focused, she hadn’t bothered to be a Nihar.
For some irrational reason, this made her smile. Made a strange exultation build behind her ribs. “Go on, Stix,” she nudged. “I’m just going to watch the Nines. See what I can learn.”
“All right,” Stix said, though she still made no move to leave. Her frown deepened, as if she were trapped in indecision …
She decided, leaning in until her lips brushed against Vivia’s cheek. The softest of kisses. “Be careful.”
Then Stix was gone.
For several erratic heartbeats, Vivia could not breathe. Stix had seen through her mask, yet she hadn’t run. She hadn’t judged. She hadn’t hated.
Hell-waters, what might have happened if she’d shown her true self years ago? Maybe she and Stix could have …
No. Vivia rubbed her eyes. No regrets. She could analyze and replay this later. For now, she had to keep moving.
After a moment to regain her bearings, Vivia scouted onward. Alone. The noises ahead grew louder—at least ten people—as did the glare of too many lamps in one space.
She reached the crowd gathered in a wide square. She cut into a house that faced it. Up she wound, floor after floor until she hit the top. Here, Vivia found the perfect view. Here, she could linger in a shadow and watch the Nines below.
For Stix was right. These were the Nines. She knew that man in the center—she’d hired that man in the center. Garren Leeri, from Judgment Square. He’d slacked so much on the job, though, that she’d traded him off as soon as she could.
He looked awful. Skin and bones now. Black scars everywhere.
“Back off,” he squawked. “Give my sister space!”
The people backed off, giving Vivia a clear view of the girl just awakening. “Garren,” she mumbled, a surprised sound.
Then suddenly, she was a cyclone. She wriggled, she pummeled, she spun. Trying to rise, trying to fight her ropes. Until Garren eased a cleaver from a sheath at his waist.
Cam stilled, but she did not stay quiet. “You used me.” Her words bounced off the limestone, loud enough for everyone in the square to hear. “I trusted you, and you used me.”
“I only collected what I was owed, Cam, since you left us without paying your dues.” He wiggled the blade at her. “Can I cut you loose? Will you behave?”
Her lips pursed sideways. She nodded.
Garren sliced through the ropes, a surprisingly tender gesture. As soon as the final fiber snapped, Cam scrabbled away. “What are you?”
“I could ask you the same.” He laughed, and two other Nines laughed with him. “Boy, girl—have you made up your mind yet, Cam?”
She was having none of that. Her lips snarled up. “I saw you die, Garren.”
“Hye. And you saw your prince die too. But death—it isn’t a boundary for me anymore. It needn’t be for you either, Cam. Now give me your left hand. We have to finish what we started before you ran off.”
“No.” Cam tried to bolt. The bearded man grabbed her, thrust her back. “No!” she shrieked. “NO!”
Vivia stood. She was outnumbered, and she only had this blade to protect her since no water was near. It didn’t matter, though. This girl was threatened; Vivia would help.
At the same instant that Vivia pivoted to race back for the stairs, she caught sight of another figure. Cloaked in darkness, he waited atop the building opposite her. A wind eddied around him. His clothes flapped. Shadows twined.
Then he leaped into the square, and light washed over his face.
It was Merik.
It was Vivia’s brother.
*
Merik had found the enemy: fifteen people, with their eyes on Garren and Cam at the center of the square. The Nines, Merik now knew, and finding them had been so easy. He’d been a fish on the line, and the shadows had pulled him ever forward.
Through winding passages, past long stretches of floods, down unlit holes and dangling ladders, until at last, he was here. To Cam, bloodied and kneeling before the assassin from the Jana. Before her brother, Garren.
It made sense now—why Cam had been hiding in that alley, who had attacked her by Pin’s Keep, and why she’d continued to insist Vivia might not be behind the attack.
He would ask her about that later, get answers. Decide if he could forgive.
For now, though, Cam was in danger.
In a single bound, Merik dropped into the square. His winds coiled in for close combat. One man, turned. Merik snapped at his chest, felling him in a single swoop.
Two more men charged, cutlasses out.
Merik simply laughed at that—as if blades mattered to his winds. To his rage.
He flipped up both hands, funneling his power into a ball. With a flick of his wrists, every dust mote nearby flew at the men’s faces. At their eyes.