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“I don’t understand,” Fey said, but Alice ignored her. She walked past the lab benches, toward the center of the room, where heavy metal shelves held row after row of…

Wooden crates. Fey drew in a sharp breath.

“I have to hand it to you,” Alice said. “You came very close to wiping out our entire supply when you blew up my warehouse.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fey, her hands on one of the crates, ready to pull it from the shelf. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Fey’s heart hammered in her chest. She nodded.

“I thought so.” Alice sighed, sadly. She pulled the crate down and walked it over to the nearest lab bench to set it down. “It was a good job. Efficient. I was almost proud.”

“You hired guards to watch it at night,” Fey whispered. “Someone noticed. It was a rookie mistake if you were trying to keep the place hidden.”

Alice winced. “Yeah… that was careless of me. I thought I’d been so damn careful, you know? The guards were just there to prevent someone from sneaking in, some kid stumbling onto something they shouldn’t know about. I never thought…” Alice took a deep breath. “There was a kid there that night, wasn’t there, Fey?”

Fey swallowed. “Yeah,” she said, remembering the prey Shifter who had held a knife to her neck, remembering the way his hands had shook. Remembering his fear.

“Is he…?” Alice asked, turning her gaze to Fey.

Fey nodded.

Alice squeezed her eyes shut, as though in pain. “I… I figured. He didn’t come back that night, so we thought… fuck.” She shuddered. “He was just a kid, Fey. The guards, they knew what they were doing, what the risk was, but him? He was just an idealist kid from the PFTC, in way over his head.”

“You’re… you’re working with Prey for the Crown?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’m working with everyone, Fey. Every Faction, every dissatisfied citizen I can get to listen to me,” Alice snapped, her voice turning angry. “And there’s plenty of them out there, if you know where to look. Do you have any idea what it’s like, for the other Factions? Have you even left the palace long enough to see what the city is really like?” Alice turned toward her, eyes blazing.

Fey felt her own anger rise to her defense. “Of course I have,” she snapped.

“Really, Fey?” Alice challenged. “Have you really looked around at the state of the Eternal City lately? Tell me, then… Did you know the other Factions can’t own land here?”

She hadn’t. Fey blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t see why?—”

“Only Witches can legally own property within the City. Which means every home, every business, every building within City limits can be taken from a citizen at a moment’s notice. No explanation, no time to pack up your store or home and move—if the Witch who owns your house decides they no longer want you as a tenant, you’re out on your ass.”

“What does it matter if?—”

“Did you know poverty in this City is almost entirely centralized in Fallen districts? There are plenty of jobs, plenty of food available for us Witches, but the Shifters? Demons? Most of them are struggling to get by, struggling to get enough food for their families,” Alice continued. “Tell me, Fey, when was the last time you went hungry? The last time you had no idea where your next meal was coming from?”

“Don’t give me this pious, self-serving bullshit,” Fey snarled, the anger that had been building inside her finally coming to a boil. “You benefited from all of this just as much as I did, Alice. And you never cared about the Fallen when you were a Blade. You never mentioned poverty or hunger to me then. So, why do you suddenly care now, huh? Why do you suddenly give a shit about the other Factions?”

Her words hung heavy in the air between them as they stared at one another. Alice looked away first.

“You’re right,” she said softly. “I don’t care about them, not really. But I have my own score to settle with the Crown. And so do you.”

She opened the crate, but Fey already knew what was inside even before Alice pulled the glass bottle out and held it up to the light.

“Do you know what this is?” Alice asked, looking at the golden liquid that danced inside.

Fey didn’t. But she’d been thinking about it long enough that she thought she now had a pretty good guess.

“Allium,” Fey answered, thinking back to Phillip Danvers’s dissertation.

Alice blinked, turning her attention from the vial back to Fey with curious surprise.

“Now that,” she said, her lips quirking into a smile, “is a very interesting answer, and I can’t wait to hear all about why you think that… But no, Fey. It’s not Allium.”

She closed her hand around the vial, and for a moment she was so lost in thought that Fey began to think Alice had forgotten all about her.

“You must be exhausted,” Alice said finally, opening her eyes. “This—” She motioned around at the room, at the factory upstairs, at everything around them. “This must be a lot for you to take in, I know. I will tell you everything, I promise Fey, but let’s at least sit down and maybe rest a little first, okay?”