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That smile, the one he tried to hide, made him startlingly new, changed the hue of his eyes. I tried not to pay too much attention to his lips. “You don’t like women who speak?”

“Can’t fuckin’ stand them, truth be told,” he said. “They have a way of talking over the stuff they don’t want you to hear.”

I bristled, my face heating. “Maybe you’re just a lousy conversationalist,” I said. “Or an arrogant prick. Either one.”

He broke out in laughter then. True laughter. “Oh, it’s definitely both, but I was just pulling your leg. I don’t mind your prattlin’. I just wanted to see that scowl again.”

So, we both liked to get beneath each other’s skin.

“Why am I here, Patrick?” I asked stiffly. I didn’t like the way he made me feel off-kilter. Like he might pull a mask from his face at any moment. “You offered false promises of freedom, and then locked me in a room. We knew each other once. Why not just ask me for whatever you needed? I might’ve said yes.”

He breathed deeply out of his nose and took his time to respond. He had a coin between his fingers, though I didn’t see where he’d drawn it from; he simply flipped it from knuckle to knuckle. “You know how long it took me to find you, Nina?” he asked, voice quiet. “Six months. Six whole bloody months.”

The answer surprised me and didn’t. It surprised me that he’d been so intent on finding me. It didn’t because I’d been a ghost. “I move often.”

“You do,” he agreed. “And you’re smart about it. Careful. Don’t use the same name twice. Don’t use the same clothes, neither. Find new work wherever you go. Never leave your apartment unless you need to. Never talk to anyone.” He looked up at me through his eyelashes. “You were a difficult find, Nina.” That same weariness seemed to shroud him again. “For better or worse, you’re the only one with your particular skillset. I wasn’t banking on a few hours of childhood kinship to see the deal through. I need you, Nina.”

“To help you win the war?” I asked, my eyes rolling.

His jaw flexed. “You don’t think we can do it,” he guessed.

“I don’t think anyone wins.”

“I disagree,” Patrick said. “The winner in the end is the one with the most idium.”

“Then what do you need me for?” I implored, my heart thudding viciously in my chest. “I’m no Alchemist. Tell me why you brought me here, what you’ll have me do. And don’t just say ‘tunnels and secrets.’?”

He caught my stare. “Here it is, then. I need a route into the capital where they won’t see us coming. I need your help to free my father, and I need to know where Lord Tanner sleeps at night, so that I can sink a bullet between his eyes before anyone knows I’m there.”

If only it were so easy.

I shook my head and looked away. I wasn’t a fool. There was more, and he didn’t intend to disclose it. “You want my help digging a tunnel into the city,” I repeated.

“For now,” he said. “You have a good understanding of the National House and its layout. I’ll need your help with that, too.”

“And how do I know you aren’t planning on gunning down every Artisan man, woman, and child on the other side? I won’t help you if it’s just blood you’re after.”

“So youdohave sympathies, then. I suspected you might.”

I frowned. “Artisans and Craftsmen die just the same,” I said. “Their blood doesn’t spray any different. I can hardly tell it apart anymore.” And I had seen far too much of it already. I ripped a knot of grass from the earth, then closed the crater it left behind with nothing but a thought.

Patrick watched. He swallowed before he spoke. “No one will die that needn’t. I’m not mad with revenge.”

“Aren’t you?” I asked, incredulous. “Sinking a bullet into Lord Tanner sounds an awful lot like revenge.”

“My plans for revenge are scratched into the walls of my throat, Nina. I’ve never spoken them aloud, but I assure you, they are there. And they don’t involve the innocent residents of Belavere City.”

“Your union had no such reservations when you blew up the school,” I reminded him and swallowed thickly.

“It’s different now.”

“How?”

“Because I’m in charge.” He said it with such finality, as though the topic brooked no further argument.

“And what of Domelius Becker?” I asked next. “What will you do with the Alchemist?”

His posture changed. Up until that moment, it seemed he had been leaning in closer and closer. Now, he blinked, turned back to Kenton. “That ain’t your concern.”