Page 125 of Turncloak

There was little of significance—neither the King’s Prophet nor the boy in scholar’s blue had been seen since her last shift.

She was heating some water for a fresh pot of ginger tea when the downstairs back door flew open, banged against the wall, then slammed loudly shut. For a few split seconds, Auria’s hackles raised, and she drew her wand, pointing it toward the open doorway leading out onto the landing. But if this was an intruder, they were not trying to be subtle. A familiar grunting and grumbling sounded as a pair of boots stomped up the stairs, and by the time Nissa Naszi appeared in the room, Auria had already laid her wand to one side.

“I brought snacks,” said Nissa flatly. Her usually sleek black hair was slick to her face from the rain, black and gold kohl streaking down her cheeks in rivulets, silver cloak sodden and boots squelching miserably.

Auria frowned at her colleague’s dishevelment. “You couldn’t have wielded the rain out of your own orbit?”

Nissa lifted her two tote bags emphatically, showcasing that she had, indeed, brought vast quantities of snacks. “I had my hands full. There’s a ginger theme—nougat, pastries, candied peel, studded chocolate, flavored cønnafyr—but it’s likely all drenched now. You do like ginger, don’t you?” This last question was flung like an accusation.

A little snort of entertainment slipped through Auria’s nose of its own accord. “I do. But what are you doing here?”

Nissa dumped the bags of snacks on the table and squeezed some of the moisture from her hair, loosing the scent of the jasmine oil she used to keep it glossy. “I was finally cleared for active duty, and Karvas, perhaps unsurprisingly, reassigned me from the Bloodmoons. Told me I should accompany you on your stakeout, in case your migraine auras ‘once again’ addle your judgment.” A feral, toothsome smile. “Most inconvenient when you’ve been trying so hard to avoid me, I know.”

Auria averted her gaze.

Ever since Nissa had perjured herself during the hearing, Auria had kept to night-shift sleep patterns so their waking hours didn’t overlap. She spent as little time as possible at the precinct, ambling around the city despite the winter chill, picking up last-minute holiday gifts for loved ones—it was Sancsari tomorrow, and she had always enjoyed the gift-giving and large feasts associated with the anniversary of the Saints coming together to create the magical world.

Her efforts to steer clear of Nissa had been mercifully successful, but the time apart hadn’t helped to unmuddle Auria’s feelings about the inquest. Yes, Nissa had given an impassioned character statement in Auria’s favor, but she’d also committed a serious crime and put Auria in a terrible position. For the first time in her career, Auria had failed to obey truth entire and truth alone. If this ever got out, she could wave goodbye to the Grand Arbitership, to any future in prosecution or the courts.

Auria was livid with Nissa, but she was also livid with herself, and not quite ready to confront it.

In response to Nissa’s quip, she muttered, “After your positive facial ID of the kingpin on Silvercloak grounds, I’m surprised they didn’t want you heading up the task force.”

“Quite the contrary—it gave Karvas grounds to claim I was too close to the matter. His favorite line.”

Having grown used to operating in the patchy darkness of the apartment, Auria tipped a spoonful of tea leaves into her favorite pot—midnight blue and adorned with white-and-gold dawndoves, hand-painted by her mother Lulí—and dropped the lid. Her stomach growled, and she longed to rifle through Nissa’s proffered snacks, but the petulant child inside her was still pissed off. “What’s happening with said positive ID? Are they pursuing an arrest?”

“Not yet.” Nissa sat down in one of the two chairs by the window table. “I think they want to tie your boot prints to the kingpin—it’s more robust physical evidence than my say-so. And it doesn’t look like Killoran is going to provide anything more definitive anytime soon.”

Auria frowned. “You don’t think so?”

As Nissa braided her still-damp hair into a plait, the rain-streaked light from the streetlamp poured through the window and illuminated the runes tattooed up her brown throat. It felt so oddly intimate that Auria had to look away.

“The last time I spoke to her was a couple of weeks ago, right after I woke up. She stole into the hospital wing through an open window.”

“And after that, you didn’t think to close said window?”

“The heart wants what it wants, and what mine wants is achullah. It was either that or smoke out all the other patients, which seemed inconsiderate.”

Auria idly stirred the tea, gaze still pinned to the street outside. “So Saffron came to see you.”

“I told her I’d asked you to help me get her out—and that you’d refused.”

“Thanks for that.”

Nissa shrugged. “If you’re going to make shitty decisions, you have to own them. Anyway, Saffron was unsurprised, but didn’t want us to extract her yet anyway, because she didn’t have what she went for—evidence. I offered to be her bridge in Aspar’s absence, somewhere for the evidence to go when she procured it, but she was skeptical. She knows Dematus and Karvas are corrupt, that they have the power to bury said evidence. Bury her.”

“Did she agree to keep informing?”

“Sort of, but then…she asked me to steal the letter for her. Didn’t seem to give a tiny bat’s arsehole that it could cost me my career. I lost it, to be honest. Much like I did with you when you refused to help her. If there’s one thing I can never stomach, it’s selfishness.”

Auria forced herself to stay calm, measured, to not give Nissa the satisfaction of the rise. “That’s a strange thing to say to someone who breached their entire moral code to save your life. When there was a knife to your throat, I was thinking of you, not of me.” The spoon grinded around the inside of the teapot. It was, by now, the most relentlessly stirred tea that had ever existed. “I’m not selfish, and I didn’t turn my back on Saffron just because I want to be Grand Arbiter someday. I did it because I thought it was right.”

Nissa stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “Yes, yes, I know. I’m tired of hearing about good and right and lawful.”

Biting her tongue down on the savage retort, Auria blandly asked, “How did it end with Saffron?”

“I told her to bring me evidence so ironclad that it’d obliterate the Bloodmoons forever, and I’d make sure it was escalated over Karvas’s head. All the way to the commissioner.”