A bell chimes and,whoosh,the curtain on the far side of the room unveils one of our maids. She yelps. “Gods, my apologies, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.”
Adraa’s hand slinks back to her side, and with a wave the red spikes on the map burst into smoke. “I should go.” She flies to her feet.
I cast away my own spikes and send the map reeling out of the illusion and back to a mere painting. “Wait!” I yell as Adraa runs out the door and her footsteps echo in the hallway.
“Raja Jatin, I—”
I wave a hand toward the maid. “It’s fine. Pretend this never happened.” And I bolt after Adraa.
“Jaya, wait!” I yell again.
Ahead, Adraa slows and finally turns around, panic still on her face.
“It’s fine. She’s a maid. She didn’t see enough to understand what we were planning,” I try to reassure her.
Adraa looks down at her right hand and squeezes it into a tight fist. “I…maybe I should do this on my own.”
What?So this is more than embarrassment. My brain fumbles through every possible way a single maid could have thrown me into useless guard territory again. No matter what has driven Adraa to this decision, I can’t let it stand. I can’t let her go out alone, knowing every drug dealer is looking to ambush her, to kill her. “After all that planning, everything we heard at Pier Sixteen, you would do this alone?”
“It’s more complicated than that. Kalyan, you and I…I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“And with me there, there will be a less likely chance of that happening. Please, tell me we are still partners in this.” I can’t help but beg at this point.
She withdraws. “Yes, fine. Partners. But nothing more.”
Nothing more.It’s not rejection. It’s not even bad news. I’ve won, really. She’ll listen to reason and won’t go into the streets without me. But as I watch her turn and leave, it still feels like I’ve lost. And it’s never quite hurt this badly.
For the next two weeks, on every other night, we stalk the empty shell of what used to be the grand trading bazaar. It’s seen better days. A web of cracks stretch across its rounded roof and arched windows. The sand-colored stone, which most of Belwar’s buildings are constructed with, has faded along the top and blackened at the base.
By day five I’m sure this is the place. It may not scream Vencrin, but it both smells of ruin and bustles with activity, a combo that can only mean one thing. And if that weren’t clear enough, I asked my North Village distributor to place firelight in the public lanterns that used to house sticky candles and dripping wax. At nightfall Kalyan and I witnessed each glowing light of comfort and warmth snatched from their containers. So now we watch in the heavy darkness.
Which normally wouldn’t be a problem. I’m not afraid of the dark. Kalyan and I are both talented enough in orange magic to zoom in and see through the murk. No, the problem is Kalyan. For the past two weeks I’ve set boundaries. Don’t get physically close. Don’t sit, or Gods forbid lie, on the ground together. The darkness scatters my rules across the rooftop like they’re a joke.
I thought my “nothing more” could haltmyfeelings at partnership. Nope.
Two nights ago Kalyan suggested that if we get caught we could pretend to be two teenagers messing around on a rooftop. I don’t normally become engulfed in flames, figuratively, but my cheeks burned as I tried to play it off like that was a solid plan.
Then he choked on laughter and said, “I didn’t mean it like that.” Which meant that not only was I the embarrassed one but my mind is the one that went there, that jumped. I may not have voiced my rooftop rules, but I’m the individual pushing them over the ledge.
Before all this, I hid my identity to do one thing—gather information. Now, it’s something else. The lie also lives out a fantasy. Kalyan and Jaya could be together,couldfall in love. My birthday, edging ever closer, brings a whole different level of anxiety.
But I shouldn’t think about this. I have a job. Watch. Plan. Then we will raid this makeshift warehouse. Once in I’ll be able to find my firelight. I’ll have proof.
The threat of ambush and the Vencrin leader’s order to destroy us still hang thick in the air. Twice we have been attacked on our way here. Once, streams of magic pelted from the sky. The other attack was two blocks away, drenched in black magic. Eleven bodies fell.
Midfight, Kalyan and I developed a tactic for watching each other’s backs, one we call rings: let one or two Vencrin come close, send them to the ground, and expand in small and steady increments. We also started to work on levels too, one of us on the roof, one on the ground. Assassins not only love jumping out of shadows but down from them as well.
I’ve stopped wearing my Red Woman uniform. Tonight, I’ve opted for purple flying pants, pink blouse, and lavender wraparound skirt, which is long enough for me to fasten and pleat over one shoulder like a sari. No masks. No shadowy costume that the God of Wodahs would be proud of. Just two teenagers…messing around.
Kalyan bumps my shoulder with his. Every particle of my being focuses on the tap like I’m an orange forte and my nerves have been enriched. At first it was just my hand that became warmer when he touched me. Now that feeling has swum up my arm and throughout my body these past weeks. It’s beyond irritating, not to mention unprofessional.
“Someone’s rounding the corner on our left,” Kalyan whispers.
I swivel my attention, dragging my bloody senses away from the minimal contact. Kalyan’s right. The hulking form of a man steps under an empty lantern and trudges up the road. Something about the walk and the frame has an air of familiarity I can’t seem to—
No!My stomach bottoms out. A lump rams into my throat and I choke on surprise.
“I don’t recognize him. Can you see his face?” Kalyan says.
