Page 8 of Godless Saints

Rain hammered the stone outside.

“Why tell me?”

Aleksei’s expression didn’t change. That was answer enough.

“Because you already have access.”

“I annoyed him in public.”

“You made him react in public.”

“Barely.”

“Barely is enough when the entire gallery is trained to count every twitch.”

Every twitch.

Misha leaned in. “Especially the hair grip.”

“Misha.”

“What? I’m helping.”

Aleksei ignored him. “You crossed the nave, displaced an Aster Patronage candidate, sat close enough that Sawyer Whitlock intervened, and Moon did not remove you.”

My smile thinned.

“That is access,” Aleksei said. “Exploit it.”

A Blood Writ wasn’t gossip. It was authorization to ruin someone. Usually the kind of thing I did best.

Tonight, it sat wrong.

Not because of Moon.

Because Sawyer had handed him over like a tool and expected me to break him on command. Aster never threw the first punch. They made someone else do it. Poor Sawyer. He picked the wrong hands.

“You take the Writ for Thorn. For Favor. For the Chalice. Nothing else.”

“Obviously.”

Misha beamed. “See? Now I don’t believe you.”

I ignored him.

“Grandfather wants Thorn feared again. Not treated like a joke. Feared. We make everyone wonder why Moon keeps looking at Thorn.”

Aleksei struck a match and lit his cigarette, not looking away.

“You accept or not?”

Moon cracked. I wanted to see it again. And now nothing was stopping me. Those tipsy, conflicted eyes in Saint Lucia. He needed convincing. I wasn’t about to waste a single second of it.

“Give me the Writ.”

Misha clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

I stood before he could finish.