Page 132

“Usually,” he admitted, “but not today. Gunner is taking a shift in the east mines. I’ve left Donny in charge of the market. I heard from Briggs at dawn—there’s a new leak in the tunnel. The Charmer will need another day to patch it.”

“Theo.”

“Yes, him.”

Guilt and gratitude mixed together, quelling the warmth in my middle, though not completely. I shook them away.Use these days wisely.

“You speak in your sleep, too,” Patrick said then. “I’m starting to think you might never shut up.”

I rolled my eyes. “What did I say?”

“Somethin’ about guns,” he said, repositioning. “Two guns.”

Dread pooled in my mouth.

“After that, I couldn’t say. I fell asleep. Didn’t wake up until Briggs came to the door.”

I tried not to show my relief, tried to breathe normally. Patrick didn’t seem suspicious in the least. In fact, he seemed satisfied. “You sound surprised at the thought of sleeping,” I noted.

“I don’t sleep well,” he reminded me, and I wondered if what he meant was that he didn’t sleep at all. That there was never enough peace for him to sleep.

He exhaled in a gust and looked my way, and I returned my gaze to my lap. I couldn’t quite explain the fear that lingered, only that it wasn’t a fear for my life. It was the anxiousness of being alone with someone who makes your blood sprint.

“I fear I made a fool of myself last night,” I uttered.

But he shook his head. “It was a trying day. You were only letting off steam.”

Perhaps, but hadn’t I forbidden myself from drinking long ago? Wasn’t there enough danger without liquor loosening my tongue?

I should count myself lucky I hadn’t said something incriminating and awoken—or not—at the bottom of a canal.

“I want to ask you somethin’,” Patrick said, and it brought my gaze back to his. I wondered if it was always his intention to swallow me whole.

“I have questions, too,” I said. And here it was, that irreversible moment.

He pulled that damned coin from his pocket. “Shall we flip to see who gets the first one?”

“That depends,” I said without humor. “Will it be a fair toss? Or will you use your medium to manipulate the outcome again?”

Silence. I thought I felt the tick of his heart. He rolled his jaw slowly before speaking. I counted one breath. Two. “What gave me away?”

“Besides the blatant cheating?” I asked. “And the bullets that didn’t hit?”

He tilted his head.

I sighed. “You went home with a bottle of magic in your pocket, Patrick. What twelve-year-old boy could resist the temptation?”

He nodded, even smiled at the accusation.

“I used to imagine you on that train back here,” I said. “I wondered if you’d thrown the ink out the window or given it to someone else. Stupid, isn’t it?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “It’s likely the only sensible choice there was.”

“But you were only twelve.”

“I was,” he agreed. “And angry as a bull.”

I nodded. “You’re a Smith?”