Page 36

Chapter thirty-six

The wrinkled dress glimmered against the surrounding black fabrics, and Lux shut the door of her wardrobe against the brightness of it. She collapsed on the bed, her heart aching. A hand rubbed the throbbing area before falling back to her lap.

Her conscience hadn’t left her alone since Shaw’s words. He had spoken so quietly he may as well have shouted. She didn’t think anything— anything— he could say would sway her beliefs. Yet, here she sat, questioning, as another aspect of her life that was once so black and white had fallen to grey.

She blew out a slow breath, catching herself before she completed her wish to return to a time where she was so sunken within herself, wallowing in darkness and sorrow, that she cared for no other living soul. Nobody could cause her pain because no one could ever reach her. But the loneliness…

It was tenfold.

A world where she’d begged to be invisible. To never be truly found or acknowledged or seen. They hadn’t understood her then. How could they? She had been the one to do something unforgivable.

But now—

Lux raised a hand to her throat; she felt it thicken.

It was true she didn’t care for many. But she cared for a few. She cared for Riselda, even as she was odd and secretive. She’d glorified her aunt as a child, and she still looked up to her for her meticulous sculpting of her healing brilliance and her fearlessness. She may even care for Shaw’s ill-mannered sister. A watery smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, recalling Aline’s fighting words and small fists against two boys twice her weight. She reminded Lux of herself.

And she cared for Shaw.

Undeniably.

Maybe even irreversibly.

Lux fell back into the pillows. She should change, her damp collar told her as much, but her muscles remained languid, stretched out upon the bed, unwilling to follow her demands. Yet, sleep wouldn’t come. When she closed her eyes, she saw every person she’d given life back to, and every one she hadn’t. Their faces flipped like pages inside her head.

Ghadra’s history flipped like pages.

She was pulling the door closed behind her before she even knew where her feet led when it dawned on her at last: she would go to Shaw. She would…apologize. She couldn’t say whether she agreed with his actions or not, but he didn’t deserve her continued judgement any longer. And she must tell him exactly that.

Night descended, and the raucous street at her back faded to hushed silence as she entered the Dark. A gaunt man peered at her from a sagging stoop. A street over, and a woman’s hollowed eyes stared down from a third-story balcony. Rats pilfered through trash, doorways and windows were boarded, and the ominous feel of Death lingered like a patient scavenger, knowing it would soon again be fed.

So many were dead. The Dark smelled of nothing but cloying jasmine and rot.

Lux stood before the familiar worn door in the familiar worn alley with her fist poised in the air. Knock, she told herself. You’ve done it before. Which was all well and good—but for the part that would come after.

She was nervous. How had it come to this?

Her fist met the wood, harsh and scraping her knuckles, and she dropped her hand afterward, pushing it into her pocket. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll leave. He never needs to know.

The door swung inward on her next breath. Tawny eyes, stunned then cold, stared back at her. I— Her lips parted, but no words tumbled out.

“What are you doing here?”

Lux fought against her shoulders, pushing them back. “I had something I wanted to tell you.”

The door opened further, revealing Shaw’s full height, his upper body shrouded with a dark coat and a bag slung over one shoulder. “Write a letter. I can’t talk right now.” He stepped out, practically into her, pulling the door closed behind him. The soft click ricocheted off ramshackle walls.

If he thought she would relinquish the barest distance then he didn’t know her at all. Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

He bent, the heat of him enclosing her, and maybe Lux didn’t even know herself, because she stumbled back and into the alley. Or she would have—if his hand hadn’t reached out to grasp the damp collar of her dress, drawing her in.

His irritated sigh brushed against her mouth. “I’m breaking into the prison.”

All her air abandoned her at once. “ Don’t .”

“Don’t? How kind you are to be concerned for my well-being.” A rough laugh left him as he released her.

“The Shield will never let you escape.”

Shaw stepped around her. “You managed it.”

A shadow knife pushed through her breast. The memory made her flinch. “I had help.” He looked back. “Riselda. And the mayor was furious about my capture. It helps when you have something he wants.”

His dark eyes studied her closely before fingers raked through his hair. “I’m sure. Regardless, I have no other choice. But I do appreciate the warning.” He seemed as if he wished to say more, but he turned instead, passing the darkened basement entrance of the alchemist’s lair and continuing down the alley.

He pulled a cap further over his eyes and didn’t glance back again until she neared his side.

“Then I’m going with you.”

Peering around the back garden’s tallest, densest hedge, Lux crouched beside Shaw. The walk to the mansion had been long and uncomfortable, what with the endless silence stretching onward to infinity once Shaw finally agreed to her coming along. She had opened her mouth more than once to break the silence with her attempt at an apology, but the words still wouldn’t come. Besides, she figured they would only end up in another argument anyway, and she didn’t want to enter a place like the prison with her emotions in turmoil.

The garden was emptied of most of its occupants. If Lux squinted over Shaw’s shoulder, as he insisted on going first, she could make out two guards in casual poses speaking in low voices. If there were more, she couldn’t tell; rose bushes taller than any person blocked most of her view.

Her muscles began to burn, and she rested onto her knees in the damp grass.

“Stop shifting so much; we’re going to be seen.”

She rolled her eyes at his hissed reprimand. He had been the one that almost got them caught scaling the vine-wrought wall, groaning loud with effort as he hauled himself up and over. If she wanted to remain unseen, she would be. “Your poor excuse of a whisper is more likely to bring them down upon us than I am.”

He shook his head without turning toward her, mumbling incoherently beneath his breath, and she fought back a smile.

I’ve missed you.

Her smile died as quick as it surfaced, a very real fear creeping through her chest unhindered. No . She shouldn’t care this much. She couldn’t. There was a colossal difference between opening the door to the idea and the enormity of actually letting him in.

Terror filled her as she traced his shadowed profile. It was familiar to her now. He was familiar to her. She knew how his arms felt around her waist. She knew what he tasted like. She knew his darkest secret; he knew hers.

She knew him.

And she felt absolutely sick.

“I’m going to create a diversion. We’ll slip through easily enough. If we follow that gravel path, there’s a passage leading down.”

“It isn’t barred?”

“It wasn’t then. But even so,” he said, jostling the bag on his arm, “I can pick the lock.”

He’d been here before. She recalled his talk of his father and the discovery of his death. “Of course you can.”

Shaw huffed, glancing down his shoulder. “Stay here.”

Before she could inquire further or protest his abandonment, he left her to steal around the remaining outer hedges. Lux watched him go until the dark swallowed his form, then shifted the weight on her knees with a scowl.

“Tell me what to do one more time and see—”

She jumped, a hand clapped to her mouth, as the first explosion slammed into her ears. An array of crackling sparks and flares of light followed, a second explosion close behind. Shaw was at her side before she’d even realized the Shield had run to investigate.

“Go!”

The word hissed into her ear with searing heat. Lux leapt to her feet. The pair of them sprinted through the rose garden, her pace matching his. Moments later, they were through the archway, and Lux’s legs would have continued to propel her forward in search of another door, any door, if Shaw’s hand hadn’t grasped her upper arm, hauling her toward him and into a shadowed alcove.

Booted heels thundered past. A small army’s worth of guards.

They swept her fear along with them.

What did she have to lose? Everything, said her head.

Shaw’s hands were splayed upon the stones at her back, enclosing her shoulders, his hard chest flush against hers. He bowed toward her, his breaths grazing her temple in warm pants. They hadn’t run far; his shouldn’t have been so ragged.

She knew hers shouldn’t have been either.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head, and her nose brushed the hollow of his throat. His scent caused her eyes to flutter closed. Everything! her head reminded. But for the first time in her life, her heart protested the idea, and said, But you don’t have anything now.

“Stupid on my part not to realize it’d bring so many. I’m sorry.”

And saints above, how she wanted something. Even if it might hurt. Even if she couldn’t keep it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For judging so harshly, for not letting you explain, and for still being unsure if what you’re doing is right.”

Shaw’s lungs filled, his body pressing harder against her. His slow exhale sent a lock of hair over her eye. “I judge too harshly, too.” He straightened, one hand dropping to his side, and the other pausing partway in its descent.

It rose again to finger the wind-dried strands caressing her cheek and finally, to push them aside. She swallowed against the urge to lean her face into the sensation. When she lifted her eyes to his, his hand fell from her skin.

At once, an overwhelming anger came upon her. Over how badly she wanted his touch to continue. Over how starved for it she felt.

Over how she couldn’t feed that want here.

She crossed her arms over her chest, dividing the space between them. “May I ask you something?”

His gaze lifted from her elbows jutting into his front. He raised an eyebrow in response.

“What the devil was that thing?”

Shaw grinned. “Aline’s invention. She’s brilliant. If you could see the sketches, the models she’s thrown together, of the things she wishes to create. They’re magnificent.” Lux didn’t try to hide her answering smile at the pride in his voice, and his faded as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “We should go. The entrance is near here.”

She bit her lip, trepidation over entering the prison again dousing all other feeling. But he hadn’t forced her to come along, she’d done it willingly. “What do you hope to do if it’s found?”

Shaw peered down the length of the silent hall. “Steal what I can and destroy what’s left.” He stepped from the alcove, his hand outstretched. “Still desire to come?”

Lux didn’t hesitate. She grasped it tight.

The passage Riselda had ushered Lux through upon saving her those few days ago had been lit with torches every few steps. There was no such light in this one.

The door hadn’t been barred, just as Shaw had assumed, and it opened with a jarring creak that left them both stiff and breathless as they waited to be found out. But no one came. This entrance didn’t appear to be utilized often—if at all.

She followed Shaw inside, faltering only when cobwebs clung to her face. Spiders didn’t trouble her all that much, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed them crawling through her hair. Shaw, on the other hand, appeared much more bothered. She was left to tug on the door, muscling it closed as he raked his hands over his face.

He shuddered, arms falling to his sides. “I hate spiders.”

Lux smiled into the gloom, knowing he couldn’t see it.

With a hand upon the wall and Shaw’s body heat directly before her, she took her first step down. The musty air grew thicker with the coat of dust stirred by their boots, and she fought back a cough more than once. She hadn’t any idea where this particular passage would spit them out, and she didn’t want to take any chances on any small sound echoing ahead and alerting the Shield.

Shaw, for not being able to see even the barest shadow in front of his face, maintained a steady pace as they spiraled down. Until, at last, they were met with a forlorn, flickering torch. She squinted against its brightness, attempting to peer around his shoulder to get a glimpse of the tunnel beyond, when a gust of frigid air found her skin from the opposite side.

She spun with an inadvertent gasp, but only darkness greeted her. Tentatively, she stretched out her fingers.

“This way.” Shaw motioned her forward, and her hand stilled.

Another torch further down the passage winked at them. No cells yet. Nothing, save stone and firelight, surrounded them both. Their footsteps were near silent as they crept.

Lux sucked a breath and braved a question. “Why should it have been you?”

Shaw paused for so long, she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. She considered asking him again when he said, “I once had a bad habit of taking things that weren’t mine.”

“Like a pickpocket?”

She watched the shadows dance along the pale stones as he shook his head. “No.” He paused, probably musing on exactly how much he wanted to disclose. “Do you know the houses closest to here? The tall ones with stone statues? I’ve been inside them all, and let me tell you, they’re as overdone inside as they are out.”

“You’re a thief.”

What next? An expert poisoner? A drug harvester?

“Not anymore. It started off as a test of skill. I simply wanted to see if I could . Young and senseless. But what I found, the excess, how it was just…strewn about. I grew so angry. It was unfathomable how little we had. How little we all had. We worked so hard, and still we went to bed hungry and woke the same. I stole jewelry that night. A couple of baubles I figured wouldn’t be missed, and once I hawked them, I divvied up the coin with everyone I knew. The next time, I was able to give to those I didn’t know. And the next, and the next. Years of it.

“But I misjudged the room one night, and I was found out. The Shield showed up at my family home hours later. Enough time for me to hide the coin, but not enough to concoct a believable alibi. My father—” He cleared his throat. “We looked alike: same build, similar hair. He took my place. He told me to take care of Aline. Six months I tried, but by the time I managed my way in—”

A cry reverberated against the walls, and Shaw fell silent.

The first prison cell. The occupant cried out again, visceral sobs that pulled at Lux’s heart, simultaneously urging to run, saving herself, but also to plant her feet, never to rest until she’d set them all free. Neither would occur tonight, so she hurried by the door, trying—and failing—to block the cries that clung to her long after.

The next few they encountered were blessedly silent; either empty or their occupants’ were unconscious or dead. Lux didn’t know how often the surgeon made use of his torture chamber, but with every cell they passed, she fell further into vengeful imaginings of his scalpel in her own hand, doling cut after cut upon him until his sadistic grin grew fixed.

A sudden shriek bounded from the bars of the cell beside her. She spun out of her thoughts, the curved blade settled within her palm.

Shaw’s hand enclosed over her wrist, softening her grip. “Hurry.”

The labyrinth continued. It curled and twisted, enticing them forward with hints of decay and suggestions of filth. They curved around a row of locked doors, whimpering against far-traveled wind, where the loathsome scent grew foulest.

“This is a passage that leads upward and out. For the death-carts.”

She’d no idea, even as it made sense that the bodies be removed as discreetly and efficiently as possible. A deep wooden crate filled the alcove at the opposite side, the fetid scent of death stifling. Shaw looked as if he might vomit, but Lux wondered if it was less the smell and more the thought of his father’s body dumped within, as meaningless to the mayor and his Shield as the previous one.

She reached out her hand, all the while thinking of calling it back. But when her fingers connected with Shaw’s, he entwined them like a lifeline and his breathing evened out, the pale hue leaving his face.

He didn’t move for several heartbeats, staring at the crate with shadowed eyes. When he inclined his head to study their clasped hands, she started at the sheen of unshed tears beneath his lowering lashes. Suddenly, her hand in his seemed woefully inadequate.

But she couldn’t do more for him. Not here. Not now.

His hand pulsed once around hers before releasing. “We need to keep following the tunnel. I’ve seen a place where prisoners are experimented on.” He swallowed. “Where my father most likely—”

“I know the place,” she said. “They brought me there.”

“And you escaped their blades?” His eyes followed along the contours of her body, searching for signs of healing injury.

“There weren’t any. Not for me.” Her trailing whisper drew his brows together, but she wouldn’t speak of it. Not here. Not so close. “You’re sure the lifeblood is there?”

“Sure? In all honesty, no. But it’s a good place to start.”