The soldiers eyed Patrick wearily, then left Luderman where he lay, retreating back to their far corner, less jovial than before.
I exhaled in a gust, then manically wiped my mouth as best I could on my sleeve, nausea broiling.
“Are you all right?” Theo asked. His brow was creased, the coolness he’d exuded before now gone. He turned his body to better see me in a way that looked painful.
“Fine,” I uttered.
Patrick had closed his eyes again, his pallor gray.
“You’d be wise not to sleep, Colson,” Theo told him. “You’re likely concussed.”
“Leave him be,” I said. It hissed past my teeth unexpectedly. “He’s lost blood. He needs to rest.”
“And slip into a coma?”
“What I need,” Patrick murmured, eyelids sealed tightly, “is for the both of you to shut up.”
And we did. Theo with a shrug, me with my lip between my teeth.
“Unless you feel inspired to derail this train, Nina.” Patrick’s back slumped farther down the wall. “I wouldn’t say no to an earthquake.”
I eyed his injuries once more, the rope looping through the cattle rings. I shook my head. “I can’t.”
His eyes snapped open then, colder than I’d ever seen them. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, so darkly it crawled over my flesh. “I’ve seen you move hills. It ain’t a matter ofcan’t, is it? It’s a matter ofwon’t.” He held my gaze. “I never had your loyalty, did I?”
And there it was. That gun of his pointed between my eyes, finally firing.
I think he saw it—the way my mind folded in, they way my heart stuttered. “Patrick, I—”
“Tell me,” he said, his tone banal to anyone but me. “Say it exactly as it is, Nina. You work for the House, and I’m a fool.”
I saw, for that brief moment, all the way through him. Irreparable wounds. Punctures and shattered bones, tendons unmoored and swinging, spirals of slackened gut and a gasping heart.
And I was desperate to tell him everything. Every wretched thing I’d done, every wretched thing done to me. But the list of confessions was overwhelming. How could I tell him that I was every bit as terrible as he feared and still have him love me in the end?
“The House has my mother,” I said, the words barely breaching my lips. “And Tanner promised to kill her unless I… unless I helped him.”
Patrick’s eyes rolled back and closed once more. For a moment, I thought him asleep. “So, you helped him,” he whispered—to himself, it seemed. “You found the last Alchemist for him.”
“No,” I said, louder than before. “No, I changed my mi—”
“And why did Tanner need the earth Charmer to do it?” Patrick interrupted. “What else did he ask you to do, Nina? After you’d found me?”
I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “Patrick—”
“Did he ask you to bury us all in the mud?” he pressed. “Was that the grand plan?”
Theo scoffed darkly. “I assure you, Colson, if she wanted to bury Kenton Hill, the whole place would be fifty feet under.” His cheeks had turned ruddy. He leaned his head dejectedly against the wall. “Her grand plan was to seduce you,” he said, the veins in his hands growing more prominent as he said it. “In the hopes you’d reveal where you were keeping Domelius Becker.”
I sucked in a breath.
Patrick’s jaw went rigid. I watched his throat bob once, twice. He did not look at me again. “Then you can tell your boss she was successful.” His eyes closed. “A better actress, I’ve never seen.”
I felt myself crack and splinter.
“So, I told you my secrets,” Patrick said, quieter now. “You took them straight to Polly. And she scribbled it all to Tanner.” His eyelids fluttered,strength failing him. “You even paved him a road right into Kenton, and had me believe you were paving it forme.” He sounded begrudgingly impressed.
And there were waves of guilt in me, yes, but there was irritation, too. Defiance.
