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“Had a man come to me door tonight, Patty. Looked like he’d been kicked in the face by a horse. The name he gave was Ferris Manly.”

“Ah, Ferris,” Donny shook his head. “He tends to let those mares get away from him in the stables. Slippery hands don’t hold the reins right.”

Kirkby grunted. “Gave me a little tip though, did Ferris. Told me that he had a very peculiar encounter with a woman he believed to be an earth Charmer, of all things. Said it was Nina Clarke!”

Utter silence, except for the lighter Patrick struck to light his smoke.

The room held precariously by the tips of his fingers.

“Did he?” Patrick said eventually, seemingly indifferent.

I, on the other hand, felt my blood freeze.

“Ferris says a lot of things, Kirkby. He’s a bluff hawker, after all. I wouldn’t pay him any mind.”

“Said I might find this Nina Clarke here, in your company,” Kirkby continued, stepping surreptitiously closer. “There’s a mighty big reward on that swank’s head, Patty. Far more than me and my colleagues get paid for our… discretion.”

Men rose in their place. The sounds of their chair legs scraping across the floor filled the room. The balance teetered.

Kirkby seemed undaunted. “You brought a woman into market today,” he said.

“Took her around town, too. Loads of people’ve been whisperin’ about it.

” He waved an arm around the room, and indeed, several people averted their eyes.

“Rumor is, it’s someone new. Funny accent. What’s the newcomer’s name, Pat?”

Patrick answered without delay. “Harrow,” he said. “Of Scurry.”

“Vaguely reminiscent of your last wife, Kirkby,” Gunner said loudly, stepping forward to stand beside Patrick. “Only this one never ran off with the night soil man.”

Kirkby slammed his baton down on the nearest table. A glass bounced and shattered. Those nearest backed away several paces.

Patrick gave no reaction at all.

Before me, Tess Colson ground her teeth.

“You can check with your masters for the records, if you like,” Patrick said. “You’ll find the name. Miner’s daughter.”

“Bloody Ferris,” Gunner chuckled. His brass tooth flashed. “That horse must’ve kicked the wits out of him.”

“Nevertheless,” Kirkby replied. “Ferris said there was a strange quake in the ground at the market this afternoon. Reckons there were plenty of witnesses there who can attest to it.”

Patrick looked around with a raised eyebrow. “Does he now? Well, if anyone here wishes to speak to the esteemed officers of our great Belavere…” He stepped forward and turned in a circle, arms out. “Do so now.”

There was hardly a mutter. Just a creak in the floorboards, the whisper of bodies shifting.

Gunner took a pistol from his coat, checked the barrel casually, then replaced it.

He sniffed, rested his elbows on the bar.

“You’ll find no witnesses here, Kirkby.” His voice was hewn from some deep, dark place in the earth, and it gave me the strange sensation of being buried.

“Why don’t you go back home to that empty bed now. ”

Kirkby turned puce with rage. “Fuckin’ Colson boys,” he muttered, spittle collecting on his lip. His hand tightened around the baton.

Through the crack in the door, I could see nothing but men with flared nostrils and women with taut fists. The entire tavern somehow smelled of hot flowing blood.

“Not your brightest idea, comin’ in here tonight,” Patrick said quietly, darkly. “We agreed you’d bring any concerns to me privately. Save all the…” He gestured to the angry crowd around them. “Ill will.”

Kirkby seemed to become slowly aware, through the haze of his own fury, that he was vastly outnumbered.

That his two uniformed comrades were gape-mouthed and backing furtively away.

His eyes shifted to the glass shattered over the floor, then to Patrick, Gunner, Donny, and the others—none of whom had bothered to draw a weapon.

Kirkby teetered. “We’ll speak about my new payment,” he said, pointing a finger at Patrick. “House of Lords is offerin’ a hundred, so I want a hundred—for my tolerance.”

Gunner took two heavy, menacing strides before Patrick caught him around the chest, preventing his advance. “Enough,” Patrick said, unflinching. “I’ll be comin’ to find you tomorrow, Officer,” he said, waving Kirkby off. “Off you go now. Bar’s closed.”

“You’re a crook, Colson,” Kirkby grunted, spitting on the floor. “You and your mongrels.”

Donny barked. Briggs crowed with laughter. Gunner bared his teeth, not arguing the accusation. The coppers turned their backs.

Tess let the door swing shut, muffling the returning conversation outside. “Lord almighty,” she said slowly. She appraised me from crown to toe. “You’ve caused quite a stir.”

I swallowed. What I’d done in the market had been foolish.

“My son went on and on for months about how useful you’d be,” Tess said now, peering closely at me. I could see with total clarity the prisms in her eyes. “I told him it wasn’t worth the risk.”

Despite her shorter stature, her slightness, I felt smaller in her presence. I shrunk in my place. “Yet,” I rasped. “Here I am.”

“There you are,” Tess agreed. “Do you understand the gravity of your position here, miss?”

I nodded, though I feared I only knew the half of it.

“Good,” she said. “We’ve got an entire town to protect, to provide for. We do what must be done, however unseemly it is. If we must rid the world of one prissy Artisan to remain hidden, then I myself will pull the trigger.”

I blanched. My chest rose and fell seismically. “I don’t mean any harm to your people,” I said unevenly. “Whatever you do, I’m sure it is only to ensure their safety.”

For the first time since arriving in Kenton Hill, I was peacekeeping. Twisting words to please. Shame clawed at my throat.

Tess Colson only snorted. “Safety?” she echoed. “You think safety is all we want? No,” she said, picking a loose thread from my sleeve. “If that was it, we’d not have started a revolution, now, would we? What we want is a fair fuckin’ chance.”

I did not have the gall to break eye contact.

“Do you really think you can help us with that, Miss Harrow?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line, tried to regulate my breaths. Run , my blood beckoned. Run. “I can carve the tunnels Patrick tells me to,” I managed. “Whether it’s a help to your cause is no concern of mine.”

“Ah, yes,” Tess nodded sagely. “A war-shy neutral.” She said it the way one would describe an infection. “So, your plan is to dig some holes, then catch a fare to far-off lands, eh?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice regaining strength. “Patrick made me a deal, and I accepted.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“And are you a woman of your word?”

“In this instance, I’d be shot for breaking it,” I reminded her.

She grinned, surprise momentarily brightening her features. “Just don’t break any hearts along the way, miss. Keep your pretty eyes where they ought to be—on those far-off lands.”

My mouth dried, but I nodded once, ceding to the warning.

The clamor in the pub seemed to have died down. The door pushed open, and Patrick appeared. He eyed the two of us, standing none too far apart, with immediate wariness. “They’re clearing out,” he said to his mother. “They’ve had enough booze for the night.”

Tess nodded. “And Kirkby?” She was still staring at me, inspecting the curls falling free from their pins and the collar that closed at the hollow of my throat. “We pay that dullard enough.”

“Well, Ma, unless you want me to kill him, we’ll be payin’ him some more.”

Tess turned her head to Patrick, skewering him with her expression. Either he had the skin of a marble statue, or he was far more used to her mettle than I. Even without her glare on me, I withered.

“Bribin’ coppers only shuts ’em up for so long,” she snapped. “Your father taught you that.”

“The coppers haven’t worked a day in seven years, Ma,” he said tiredly. “They send their special scribbles to their lords in the city saying all is well in old Kenton, and it lets us live another day. We need them here, alive, and willin’ to turn their heads.”

Tess watched him with reproach. “Put her back behind a locked door, son.” No guesses as to who she was. “We’ve had enough trouble for one day.”

She strode past Patrick, through the swinging door without a backward glance.

My jaw unclenched.

“In case it isn’t already clear,” Patrick said, eyes closing. I wondered if he’d fall asleep right there against the wall. “That’s why you should’ve stayed in your room.”

It didn’t seem right to argue while he looked so… tired. I said nothing at all.

“There’re a lot of people in this town who’d like to stick it to me, Nina. If they were clever, they’d use you to ruin my plans.”

I thought of all the people in the pub tonight, placing their woes at his feet, but then standing with him in the face of police. I wanted to tell Patrick that there were also people who relied on him. Admired him.

“Can’t trust a single one of ’em,” he muttered to himself, then pushed away from the wall. “Off you go,” he said, gesturing to the stairs. “I’ll have someone bring you something to eat.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I can’t eat in the dining room?”

“There ain’t one.”

“Then perhaps I could eat in the pub?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking for more of my mother’s company?”

I shivered delicately. “I think she threatened to shoot me.”

He grinned. “Not to worry. She’d like to shoot just about everyone.”

This didn’t seem any less worrisome. “I’ll say goodnight then.” I turned toward the stairs.

“Sam will be up soon to keep watch,” he said, and I tried not to hear it as a punishment. “Do me the honor of not threatenin’ to bury him?”

My lips twitched.

“You’ll be meeting Margarite tomorrow,” he continued. “Seven sharp. I’ll have Sam wake you and escort you downstairs.”

I turned, my foot already on the first step. “Who is Margarite?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Rather, our eyes caught on each other’s, and there was a long pause. Prismatic blue shifted, melted. A jump along his jaw. I wondered if there was something in his middle that cracked and spilled out, as it did in mine. “You’ll see,” he said.

Keep your pretty eyes where they ought to be—on those far-off lands.

“Good night, Patrick,” I said again.

“Night, Scurry girl.”

Twelve flights of stairs to the top, where Sam’s wooden stool sat empty and waiting. I thought of his mother, red-faced and furious in the teahouse. I thought of his father, buried in an abandoned tunnel.

Guilt filled me, and I silently vowed to be kinder to Sam when I next broke free of my room.

But for tonight, I only wanted sleep. I wanted cherry blossom wallpaper and a swollen ceiling. A long stretch of heavy quiet. One day in public among the kind of noise I’d craved, and already I was spent.

I walked past door thirteen, with door fifteen looming invitingly, just out of reach.

But door fourteen opened on the right as I passed it, creaking on its neglected hinges. The room’s occupant stepped out, tall and wide-eyed. He froze at the sight of me.

“ Nina? ” he said.

“Theo,” I whispered.

Only I wasn’t sure the name ever truly left my lips.