Page 10 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

“Lorelei?”

She nearly fell off the roof from shock. When she opened her eyes, there was Sylvia, peering up at her from outside the front door.

She looked more like herself than she had at the ball. Her hair was incorrigibly wild as ever, but she’d traded her gown for a loose linen shirt tucked into trousers. She wore no cravat, no waistcoat, not even a jacket. But, of course, her saber was strapped to her hip. The basket handle was a coil of serpents engraved in a fine filigree pattern. The blade gleamed in the dark, as sleek and pale as a blade ofmoonlight—andjust as impractical, too. It was made of pure silver. Effective against the wildeleute, perhaps, but it was virtually useless against any human opponent’s steel.

Lorelei reminded herself to stop staring, but her mind refused to process it. Sylvia von Wolff,here, witnessing the bare facts of her life. She wanted to throw herself from the roof and tear the protective scroll from the doorpost. She wanted to set her father’s starveling herb garden aflame.

“What,” she hissed, “are you doing here?”

Sylvia glanced over her shoulder, as though Lorelei must have addressed someone else so rudely. “I’ve come to return the favor of fetching you.” She paused, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Although I confess, I didn’t expect I’d have to scale a wall to do it.”

Lorelei glared at her. How anyone could be in such a jolly mood at this hour was beyond her. She’d expected Ludwig, maybe even Adelheid, to be saddled with the burden of fetching her. Really, she resented that it had to be anyone at all. By law, all Yevani had to be within the gates of the Yevanverte between sundown and sunrise, unless accompanied by a citizen of Brunnestaad.

“Keep your voicedown—anddon’t climb anything, for God’s sake. I will be . . .” She trailed off. Sylvia was already climbing the rickety old trellis. With any luck, it would collapse beneath her. “. . . with you in a moment.”

Lorelei considered the wreckage of her mug and decided, for expediency’s sake, to sweep the shards into a neat pile. As long asSylvia—andhermother—didnot see it, no harm done.

Sylvia swung herself onto the roof and settled beside Lorelei. She gazed out over the Yevanverte, with its haphazardly stacked houses andcramped alleyways. Lorelei expected pity or disgust. But Sylvia only smiled softly and said, “What a lovely view you have.”

She tried not to let her surprise show. Lorelei could see little of note from here, apart from thewall—andan occasional glimpse into her neighbors’ windows, which was not what she would calllovely. She didn’t have any polite responses for her, so she held her silence. The starlight found Sylvia, even in a place like this. She had an infuriating knack for looking utterly at home or at peace anywhere she went.

“So, did you draw the short straw, or have you come on Ziegler’s orders?” Lorelei asked.

“Actually, I volunteered.”

“And why would you do that?”

Sylvia had the nerve to look offended. “I wanted to congratulate you. You ran off before I got the chance.”

“I did notrun off.”

Sylvia gave her a meaningful look, which Lorelei decided to ignore. In all fairness, she had hidden on a balcony until Ludwig coaxed her into his carriage at the end of the night, but she would not concede he point.

“Congratulations, then.”

Lorelei braced herself for a caveat or a challenge, but none came. Very suspiciously, she said, “Thank you.”

“You worked hard for it,” Sylvia continued. “I confess, you inspired me to push myself,even—”

“Flattery, von Wolff?”

“No!” she protested. “I do mean it. Truly.”

Lorelei averted her eyes. “I find myself skeptical that you’d need any encouragement to push yourself. You’re relentless.”

Sylvia smiled uncertainly at her. “I will choose to take that as a compliment.”

“As you like,” Lorelei said, feeling oddly flustered. “That’s really why you came? To exchange pleasantries?”

Sylvia hesitated. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Of course not. Lorelei hated that she felt even a pang of disappointment. She never should have expected anything different. “Out with it, then.”

Sylvia cast a fretful look at the edge of the roof. “Perhaps we should get moving first. I will meet you outside.”

“Oh,” Lorelei said darkly, “this should be good.”

With that, she climbed back through her bedroom window. A candle still burned low on her writing desk, the flame whispering just above a pool of wax. By its guttering light, Lorelei collected her traveling cases. Her family would have wanted her to wake them, but it was far easier to vanish. She could stomach neither tears nor the prospect of her two worlds colliding.