Page 126 of Turncloak

“And you don’t think she’ll do that? Even if she does find such evidence?”

A loaded silence. “I have my doubts.”

“Why? She’s dedicated her whole life to bringing down the Bloodmoons—she’d sacrifice you or me or herself for it. Why would she secure evidence, then continue to operate as one of their own?”

“I don’t know.” Nissa leaned back in her chair, the wooden legs creaking in the too-quiet night, and stared out across the street. “There’s something strange going on—something larger at play. Something to do with that letter, with the reason the kingpin risked everything to get it. I just can’t figure out what.”

Steeling herself, Auria finally crossed to the table with her cup and teapot, the lid rattling as her hands shook. “Is that why you lied about seeing the kingpin’s face? Because you no longer trust Saffron to bring him down, and you wanted to take matters into your own hands?”

Nissa, who always found the most infuriating possible response, erupted into low laughter.

“It’s not funny, Nissa,” Auria hissed, narrowly suppressing the urge to slam her palm on the table.

“Oh, I do love when you spit my name like that.”

“It’s a serious offense, and as a lawyer I—”

“Look, if we’d lost our livelihoods over that night, I at least wanted something good to come of it. I wanted it to lead to his downfall. And I also did it to save Killoran, since she clearly has no interest in saving herself.”

“You committed perjury, Nissa. And you forced me into allowing it.”

“You weren’t forced. You could’ve abdicated from the case, gone to the judge. But you didn’t. You’re as complicit as I am. You chose what was right over what was lawful, and I’m proud that you did.”

“False testimony is neither lawful nor right.”

“So why didn’t you come forward? Why did you allow it to happen?”

Auria shrugged heavily, thinking of the Grand Arbitership. “Maybe I am more selfish than I like to admit.”

Nissa studied her with hawkish curiosity. Her golden eyes were the only sources of light in the otherwise darkened room, and everything still smelled of jasmine oil. Auria hated that she smelled good.

“Do you resent me for putting you in that position?”

“It was a very conflicting few minutes,” Auria answered, without really answering. “First you perjured yourself, made a liar of me, turned your back on truth entire and truth alone…then you gave that character statement. Why did you do that? Defend me so ardently?”

Nissa looked away. Flushed, perhaps, though it was hard to tell in the dark.

“You need to get me up to speed on the Whitewings,” she said, a sidestep, a detour.

Auria slid her stack of papers and parchments across the table. “Here are my notes, compiled with Detective Alcabal’s. It makes for thrilling reading.”

“Or you could just tell me what I need to know, like a normal person.”

“Normal people don’t read?”

Nissa shrugged off her sodden cloak and rummaged around in the pocket. “It’s hard to read and smoke at the same time. I don’t want to get ash on your precious paperwork. Mind if I crack a window?”

“No, Nissa.” Saints, there she was, hissing and spitting the name once more. Even when Nissa smirked triumphantly, Auria couldn’t resist pressing forward with the beration. “I’d rather you smoked me out than alert the Whitewings to our presence.”

Nissa’s smirk broadened, eyes glinting evilly. “Smoking you out sounds sort of sexual.”

Heat rose to Auria’s cheeks—she’d always been a prude. “You get a real kick out of making me uncomfortable, don’t you?”

“Our interactions have always given me a kick, Marriosan. I thought you knew that.”

“That’s a strange way of describing our historic enmity.”

Another laugh as Nissa lit her achullah. “In Eqora, hostility is a sign of affection.”