Page 292

Brielle’s eyebrows lifted in an expression of unmitigated shock and delight as the bartender began plunking down shot after shot of clear liquor. “As your friend, I feel it’s my duty to tell you this is a terrible idea.”

“Oh, look at that, Bri. You grew a heart.”

“Thank you for noticing.” Brielle picked up a glass. “Do these festivities have rules?”

“Only the usual,” Sarina said and did the same. “Though tonight we’re going to be saluting my victory.”

“Oh?”

Sarina glanced at the screen where the debate was still ongoing, some pointless bit of minutiae concerning the food supply and its distribution.

Brielle smiled. “You paid them off.”

“Please. No coin ever changed hand.”

Though Sarina had done her due diligence. Visited every noble House, subtly reminding them of their loyalties or, for those without any formal allegiance, planting the seeds of arguments Ivain could easily refute. She had no doubt tonight would play out in her favor once those pompous blowhards ran out of wind.

“The game,” Sarina said, “is for you to figure out which strings I pulled.”

Brielle leaned forward. “You’re going to lose.”

“You think you know me that well?”

On the screen, a woman from Corvell with hair the color of spun gold began,Very few moments we are called upon—

“That’s you,” Brielle said.

Well, that didn’t take long. Sarina knocked back a glass, crinkling her nose at the horrid taste.

We dare not forget—

“Also you. Sorry, Rina, but none of those idiots could muster that kind of charm without a script.”

Sarina knocked back another, already feeling the heat of it wash over her. “Okay, I can see now how this might not go in my favor.”

Taly wasnotwhere he left her.

Two cups of steaming mulled wine in either hand, Skye just stared at the empty bench. He wasn’tsurprisedshe’d wandered off. Really, it was his fault for not learning by now that expecting Taly to stay put was like expecting the tide not to come in. Still, he wondered if it was possible to enchant her boots to remain within shouting distance.

The area surrounding the town hall was lit up as every shop, bar, and café had their doors thrown open to welcome the oncoming crowd. Musicians played for wandering guests, and on every street corner, troupes of actors staged skits, replaying the night’s most memorable moments. Skye wasn’t surprised to see Taly and her dagger featured in most of them.

Siege or no siege, people were still out to make a living, looking to afford what small luxuries could still be found. It was a welcome sight, bustling and cheerful despite the grim news Ivain had gathered them to deliver.

Three blocks over, the crowd began to thin. The shop windows became sporadically dark. Still, the bond pulled him onward as the buildings grew taller, new construction giving way to the city that came before it.

Old Tempris. There were still a few patches left here and there—relics of a bygone era of splendor. Massive towers rose on all sides, the top floors crumbling, the exteriors smooth, seamless, and made from a luminous stone that glowed in the lantern light. Bridges overgrown with ivy and night-blooming flowers formed a web between them.

This had been the financial district once—clean, severe, and rich enough to scrape the sky. Now half the signs were handmade. Doors had been carved into walls that weren’t meant to open. Wealth had left, but people hadn’t.

Finally, he found Taly.

One hand gripped the feathery mass of her skirts as the other held the edges of her cloak tight against the chill. Herbrows bunched together in a frown as she stared up at a corner signpost.

“Of course!” Skye called out. “Of course, you would be way the hell out here. Not any of the normal places, which I checked, by the way. The toilet, the food carts, the bars. Although, I did find averydrunk Sarina…” And that was all he was going to say about that particularly unique experience. “Oh, and I drank your wine. I got thirsty walking all the way from Rosegrave to…” He looked around. “Where are we exactly?”

“Ricks and Jackshaw,” Taly answered, studying a pole stacked with mismatched signs, each one pointing in a different direction—toward shops squirreled away in hidden alcoves, tucked into basements, and perched at the tops of stairs.

“And why are we at Ricks and Jackshaw?”