“As far as I can manage.”
“You have to do better than that.”
“How far away is enough? I will still need to do my work, and you yours.”
Alora could hear his heartbeat, her ear unwillingly pressed to his chest. It beat faster than she expected. Perhaps he was tiring. “I won’t finish this job.”
“You signed a contract.”
“What business is my contract to you?” Pointless as it was, she attempted to break free again. With a grunt of annoyance, the Urchin adjusted his grip on her.
“Master Merridon is not one to take disappointment lightly. Remove the shackles, keep silent, and finish the job. You should be free then.”
“Is that meant as a threat?”
“It is meant as a truth. Look at this place. Do you think he’s gotten to where he is on goodwill and even better intentions?”
Why,whyhad she signed on to this. She should have known it was all too good to be true. She wilted in his arms. “Fine. I won’t say a thing.”
“And I will not steal your memories.”
Alora laughed in horrific incredulity. What had she gotten herself into? But a deal was a deal, and she couldn’t stay buried in this darkness pressed against a demon-souled man forever.
Carefully, she imagined cracks in his manacles—all the way through so that they would fall to the floor. A great clatter marked her success, though she still couldn’t see a thing.
Silence ensued. All she could hear were breaths and heartbeats. The Urchin still held her against him, probably to ensure she didn’t plan to exact some other punishment, but heneedn’t have bothered. In place of fear or fury, all that swept through her now was disappointment. All of it in herself.
The darkness lightened. From black to gray to the warm yellow of the lamp beside her. Alora blinked at the change, her eyes pricking as they adjusted. She felt the loss of heat and stability beneath her cheek so profoundly, she stumbled forward. Strong hands enclosed her shoulders.
“It takes a moment,” said the Urchin, softly, maybe even apologetic.
She brushed off his grip. “Write what you planned, then leave me be.” When he didn’t move, she sighed, teeth clenched. “Itwasa lie.”
He took the accusation for the fact it was and didn’t deny it. “Is there more you can do? Besides conjure iron?”
“Is there more you can do? Besides deceive and trick and force others into the dark?”
“Much more.”
Alora shuddered at his tone. “Is that what happened to your latest victim? Could she even see the attack as it came? What did she do to deserve it?”
“She spoke of things she shouldn’t.” At Alora’s returning scowl, he shifted forward, but did not step. “I mean it, Miss Pennigrim. Maintain your silence.”
He turned then, his coat clinging to his frame like a shadow. Alora waited until he neared the door before she asked, “Why?”
The Urchin paused, the cowl shifting to align with his shoulder as he focused once more on her. “Why what?”
“Why tell me at all?”
“You wanted the truth. It was something at least.” Then he was gone through the door.
She waited a bit to imagine it, and even longer before she called down the darkened hall. “There’s something climbing over you.”
Silence ensued. Alora didn’t breathe. When a strangled curse echoed back to her, she grinned.
He may act fearsome, and maybe in most settings arachnids didn’t affect him, but she was hard-pressed to believe there was anyone in existence who wouldn’t startle at the surprise appearance of a spider. Especially one as large as their head.
She continued to laugh still, hoarse and a little wicked, as she imagined paper onto the remaining wall. She rolled up what she’d planned to use but now never would—Lovely. More things to store—and gripped the glue, slinging it over her shoulder. She stared at the lamp last. It burned just as it had before, and yet it still seemed dimmed, like a permanent shadow had been left behind in reminder. A lingering threat.
