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She kissed him. “I have a future too.”

“Stuck here in this trap of a city forever,” he said, frowning at her.

It was the price she’d been willing to pay. Her affinity for a world. It felt like a bargain. No… it felt like she’d gotten away with the perfect crime.

Ruby burst in through the front door a few minutes later, bringing a gust of winter and snow with her. She had a stack of newspapers in her hand, and she waved them brightly to get Viola’s attention. “It’s here!”

Viola stopped in the middle of pouring a customer’s ale and abandoned the bar altogether as every eye in the saloon turned toward the blonde.

“Well, come on, you two,” Ruby said, her eyes as bright as her smile as she waved Harte and Esta over. “Don’t you want to see?”

“She’s not going to let us be, is she?” Harte whispered.

“Not usually,” Esta said, smiling at the way Ruby’s sunshine complemented Viola’s dark moods so well. “We’d better go before she has Viola drag us over.”

They made their way through the crowded barroom to where Ruby was already distributing copies of the New York Sun, which contained her latest article. She proudly handed Esta a copy.

“Look there.” Ruby beamed. “We made the front page!”

The headline told of the Brink’s demise and the Order’s disintegration. The Brotherhoods had scattered after the attack on the Conclave. The effects of that attack had been too broad and sweeping for the Order to try to hide. The city had been thrown into disarray, its citizens terrorized by the magic that had threatened to bring everything down. And thanks to Ruby’s articles, everyone knew that it had been ritual magic, like that practiced by the Brotherhoods, that had been the danger. With popular opinion turned against them, it seemed unlikely that the Brotherhoods would be making noise anytime soon.

Beneath the headline was a byline by R. A. Reynolds. Esta scanned the story, appreciating Ruby’s ability to convey drama without turning it into a farce. “I still can’t believe Morgan gave you that quote about Jack,” Esta told her.

“It’s not like he had much choice,” Ruby said. “Not after what Jack did to me and to Morgan’s own son. There were too many witnesses to deny it.” She shrugged. “They had to do something to save face. It was easy enough to pin everything on his nephew.”

“It helps that a dead man isn’t likely to argue,” Harte murmured.

The authorities had found Jack’s body on the sidewalk beneath the Garden once everything was over. He’d fallen—or jumped—to his death after they’d left him, and the whole Morgan clan had denounced him immediately. They, along with the Order, had been happy to blame the chaos of the night on Jack’s actions, conveniently forgetting their own roles.

“They paid three times my previous rate,” she told Viola, wrapping her arm around Viola’s waist. “With this and the rest of my dowry, we have more than enough for a place in Paris come spring.” Her smile faltered. “If you still want to go?”

“Certo,” Viola said, her violet eyes filled with an uncharacteristic tenderness. “With you, I’d go anywhere.”

“And now you truly can,” Ruby said, smiling down at her again. Then she looked at Esta. “It’s because of you. Because of what you did and what you sacrificed that we can have a life together away from here. Everyone can choose.”

Esta returned her smile. Not everyone.

Before emotion could overtake her, Esta turned to Dolph. “What time is your train?”

“We leave for Chicago at noon,” he said. After all he’d built, he was leaving the city behind. Not because he was running from his past, but because he was heading toward a new future.

“Abel’s on that route,” Cela told him. “He’ll be sure to watch out for you.”

“I still can’t quite believe I’m leaving,” he said, his eyes taking in the saloon.

“You do not have to go,” Jianyu told him.

But Dolph only wrapped his hands more securely around the small girl on his lap. “Ah, but I do, my friend,” he said. “I’ve made too many enemies in this city to ever be truly safe here. And there are too many ghosts haunting this place. We need a fresh start. She deserves one.” He kissed the top of the girl’s head, and the girl giggled and looked up at him adoringly.

Esta felt her heart ache at the sight—at the tenderness of a father and daughter reunited—but she had no regrets. The girl on Dolph’s lap wasn’t her, and thanks to Seshat and all they did to transform the Brink, the girl would never have to become her. She wouldn’t have to carry the burden of time. She’d have a life of her own. A real future. And a father who would protect her without question or price.

“You’ll look up the fellow I told you about?” she asked Dolph, reminding him of an earlier conversation they’d had once she knew he was leaving.

“Jericho Northwood?” Dolph said.

“He goes by North sometimes,” she said. “Redhead who thinks he’s a cowboy. With his mismatched eyes, you won’t be able to miss him. I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s important. I made a promise, and you finding him would go a long way in helping me to keep it.”

“I have the letter you gave me,” Dolph told her. “I’ll be sure to deliver it.”