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The guild was still fairly empty when we returned in the wee hours before dawn, its members either still out on other jobs

or sleeping away the last minutes of night. Vahn immediately went to his office, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Clearly, he did not want to talk to me. I stared at the closed door for a long moment, trying to gather the courage to step

up and pound on it with a fist; surely that would get Vahn’s attention, if not his approval. But the seconds ticked by in agonizing silence, and I finally turned away.

Annoying the Guildmaster wouldn’t get me what I was looking for, and I had other things to worry about now.

I wandered to my room, sat down on my cot, and tried to plan out a strategy for traversing the undercity. That sounded like

a good idea; Vahn was always saying I needed to plan more, instead of my usual tactic of jumping into a heist headfirst and

hoping things worked out. Which, to be fair, they usually did. But my mind kept spinning in circles, and fear crawled along

the edge of my thoughts, making it hard to concentrate. I did not like being underground. I much preferred the rooftops and

open sky; the higher and more open, the better. Going into the sewers with Vahn had been bad enough—how was I going to survive

an ancient, cursed city and the buried vault of a Deathless King?

A soft tap on my door made me blink and glance up. Wondering if it was Vahn, I rose and walked across the room to crack open the door.

It wasn’t Vahn.

“Hey,” Jeran greeted, almost shyly. His smile was crooked, and he scratched the back of his neck in an atypically uncertain

manner. “I saw you come back with Vahn, and Rala said you were out all night. Everything okay?”

“Um...” My heartbeat picked up, and my mouth was suddenly dry for a different reason. “Yeah,” I managed, taking a step

back and opening the door. “I’m fine. Vahn... had something he needed to show me. You want to come in?”

He did, stepping over the threshold and fully into my room, causing my stomach to start those crazy cartwheels again. What

was happening here? Jeran had been in my room before; this wasn’t anything new. Why was I having such crazy reactions to his

presence? Because of that one moment on the rooftop? That had just been a second, and nothing had really happened.

Maybe something would happen now.

Jeran’s dark eyes studied my face. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You look... scared.” One hand rose and gently

brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, sending a tingle all the way up my spine. “Anything you want to talk about?”

My heart thudded in my ears. He was so close; his clothes smelled of dust and the spiced wine he liked to order at the bar.

His long fingers moved from my hair to the edge of my hood, starting to brush it back.

Fear prickled the back of my neck, the anxiety of having my face exposed rising to the surface.

I stepped away quickly, taking myself and my hood out of his reach.

I couldn’t think about this now; I had to be completely focused for what I had to do.

Distractions would get me killed. “It’s nothing,” I said, and Jeran

immediately dropped his arm. “I have another job, that’s all.”

“Another job? From the Guildmaster?” Jeran shook his head, his demeanor turning sullen. “Must be nice,” he muttered. “Years

of working for the guild, doing everything he asks without screwing up, and it’s still not enough for him to take notice.

Maybe if I was a girl, he’d pay more attention to me.”

“Jeran...” I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I had my own troubles to focus on without having to listen to his jealousy

issues. “Trust me,” I told him, “I’m not at all eager to do this next job. I’d trade it to you in a heartbeat if I could.”

“So why don’t you?” Jeran asked. I blinked at him, and he shrugged. “Give the job to me,” he reasoned. “We’ll say we did it

together. I’ll even share the credit with you.”

I grimaced. “I can’t do that.”

“You mean you won’t.” Jeran’s voice was morose again. “Because you like the attention. Because it means you keep getting to

be the Guildmaster’s favorite.”

“Goddess, will you stop with the hard-on for Vahn,” I snapped. “It’s not like that at all. This job isn’t even from him, anyway.”

Oops —I hadn’t meant to say that. I desperately hoped Jeran would drop the whole subject out of embarrassment, but his eyes narrowed

and he instantly pounced on my last statement.

“Wait. If you’re not doing it for Vahn, who are you doing it for? He’s the Guildmaster. He gives the... oh.”

Jeran was smart. Or at least, incredibly perceptive when it came to rank and prestige within the guild. I could see him putting two and two together and guessing the identity of the mysterious client. His expression darkened even more, and his eyes went cold.

“Jeran,” I began, but he looked away and took a step back.

“I get it.” His voice was flat, sounding like a stranger’s. “So even they’re taking notice of your accomplishments now. Congratulations.” Even angry, he knew better than to openly discuss the Circle

with anyone. “You’re really moving up in the guild. Be sure to remember us petty thieves when you get rich.”

I ground my teeth, wanting to tell him that working for the Circle was not the prestigious position he thought it was. It

was, instead, quite terrible and frightening, and I would give anything not to have to do the mission they were sending me

on. But there was nothing I could say that would salvage this conversation, so I simply said, “I think you should go now,

Jeran.”

“Yeah.” For the briefest of moments, a glimmer of regret, maybe even shame, crossed his face. Taking another step back, he

paused, as if he was going to say something else. But then he ducked his head, left the room, and shut the door behind him.

Confused and, for some reason, a little sad, I sat down on my cot again and scrubbed a hand over my face. Jeran had always

teased me about being “the favorite child” in the guild, and though his pokes were sometimes sharper than they needed to be,

we’d never actually fought about it. He’d sounded more than irritated tonight; he’d sounded bitter and angry, as if he truly

resented me.

Lying back on my cot, I stared at the ceiling, my brain swirling in aimless, chaotic circles. Eventually, out of sheer frustration, I hopped up and went down to the tavern, hoping I wouldn’t meet Jeran or Vahn on the way.

“A bit early for beer, little dust sparrow,” Rala said, smiling as she slid a tankard across the counter toward me. I grabbed

the mug and emptied half of it immediately, feeling it hit my empty stomach like a rock. It did nothing to drown the fear

coiled around my insides.

Lowering my arm, I found Rala watching me in concern. Her kind brown eyes took in my face, my messy, tousled clothes, the

half-empty tankard in my hand, and her expression softened. “Another job?” she guessed.

I nodded.

“Something for Vahn?”

“Sort of.”

Her nails drummed the counter. “Jeran was in here earlier, drowning himself in d’wevryn ale. Boy was in a sulk that put Dahveen

to shame. I assume he knows?”

I nodded again, feeling a fresh bloom of annoyance, confusion, and hurt at the reminder.

Rala sighed. “Sparrow,” she said, and hesitated, as if debating whether to share whatever information she had. “Jeran is...

well, he is crazy about you, you know that, right?”

I snorted. “No, he’s not,” I protested. “I’ve known him forever. If he is, he never shows it.”

“Of course not,” Rala said. “He’s a boy. A very confused boy, trying to reconcile his feelings for you with his desire to be the very best in the guild. He tries so hard to be noticed, to get Vahn to see his accomplishments. Unfortunately, there is someone standing in his way.”

“Me,” I said glumly.

Rala chuckled. “So humble, this one,” she mused, shaking her head. “But yes. You are both his muse and his rival. You have

the attention of the Guildmaster, something he desperately craves. Every time you succeed, he feels himself falling further

behind.”

“So what am I supposed to do about it?” I muttered.

“Nothing.” Rala put a hand on my arm. “Keep doing what you do best, little dust sparrow. And don’t worry about Jeran. This

is his insecurity to work through, not yours. If Fate wills it, it will happen. If not...” She shrugged. “Then his ambition

will eventually drive him to madness, and you won’t have to worry about it any longer.”

She meant it as a joke, but I winced. “Thanks, Rala. I feel so much better now.”

“Anything for you.” She smiled, and I felt my spirits lift just a little. “Now, are there any other pressing life choices

I can help you with?”

Only if you know how to obtain a memory stone from a dead city without getting skewered by traps or activating an ancient

curse.

I sighed. “Nothing else I can think of.”

Vahn came for me right after Demon Hour.

“Ready?” he announced after I opened my door to his brusque knock. I nodded, and he quickly scanned my outfit: work gloves, rope and grapple, and the satchel over my shoulders that held a few extra things—flint and steel, bandages, waterskins. “You have everything you need?”

I shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough. I didn’t have time to run to the docks and pick up a curse-protection talisman from Nabba,

so...”

Vahn managed not to roll his eyes, though I could tell he wanted to. Nabba was a barely tolerated member of the guild, a weaselly

little man who sold “protection” and “anti-curse” talismans to unsuspecting souls coming off the sand striders. They were

as effective at warding off evil as rotten fruit was at repelling flies.

I dredged up a weak grin. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go, then,” Vahn said quietly. “The entrance we want isn’t far.”

We left the warehouse, walking into the streets of the Docks District, haze thick on the air. People were just beginning to