Page 76 of Turncloak

“To ask a favor.”

Nissa stilled.

“I know I’ve already asked so much of you,” Saffron muttered, tripping over her words in the hurry to lay them down. “Information on Nalezen Zares, the half-formed tracing spell. But I need this for entirely different reasons.”

Saffron described Aspar’s final moments, the letter left behind by her father, the captain’s mysterious references to their relationship. How deeply Saff wanted to see his handwriting one last time, how badly she needed to see, in words, just how much he had loved her.

She omitted, of course, a significant portion of why it was so critical: a potential lead on a weaverwick of her own.

“I suspect Karvas has custody of it now,” Saffron finished. “But I see no reason for him to hand it over.”

Nissa’s expression was impenetrable. “And you want me to steal it for you.”

A hard swallow. “Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to let me try and bring you back in? Recall the assignment. Plead your case, with Jebat’s help, to the higher-ups. Then the letter would be handed to you willingly.”

A subconscious longing opened up inside Saffron, a desire to return to her found family, a gaping hole into which all logic and reason might fall—if she hadn’t learned to control such things a long time ago. “There’s too much that could go wrong. Even if you did somehow manage to convince a corrupt captain that I was undercover, I may not be reinstated in the Silvercloaks. I still lied about my classification, still committed fraud to gain entry in the first place. I’m an ex-convict.”

“But you do want to come back. That’s what all this is for.”

“Of course, but I won’t leave the scarlets until I have enough evidence to destroy them.”

Nissa took a deep inhale, a shorter exhale. “I don’t know, Killor. The reason I heeded your requests before was because your life was in danger. This letter…I know it’s important to you. I know it’s the last thing you have of your parents. But it’s not a matter of life or death, nor is it urgent. And if I get caught, Karvas will eviscerate me. I knew last time that if I was found out, Aspar would be understanding—albeit furious that I knew of your mission—but now the game has changed. It’s not prudent.”

This last word struck Saffron across the cheek like the back of a palm.

“It’s not prudent.”

“If I’m kicked off the force, you’re out there alone. Trapped in the Bloodmoons. That is not a risk worth taking for a letter. But if you fulfill the assignment and make your way back to us, they’ll have no choice but to hand it over.”

Something ugly was simmering in Saffron’s belly, a petulant frustration, a childish ire. “I wouldn’t be trapped there alone. Jebat knows.”

Nissa’s golden eyes flared. “So you admit that me losing my job, my reputation, is an acceptable level of risk, because it wouldn’t impact you personally?”

Saints. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did. I don’t know who’s more selfish—you or Marriosan. You only see your own goals, and you don’t care who you step on to reach them. I am no longer your tool, your weapon, your piece on the chessboard.” An icy cool had descended upon Nissa, a thousand times more terrifying than her scorching anger. “But I remain a bridge, and I won’t leave you out in the dark. Bring me new evidence. I’ll make sure it climbs the ranks, and this time, I’ll make sure it sticks. Then you’ll get your damned letter.”

“Nissa, I—”

“I’m fine, by the way. Thank you so much for asking.”

Guilt and shame and frustration simmering together into something wholly noxious, Saffron left the precinct the way she’d entered: through the open window, and with the two conch shells still tucked in her cloak pocket.

Levan listened for what felt like hours, until finally, Saffron Killoran leapt from the open window with floating boots, landing softly on the dark, dewy grass below. She pulled her hood up over her moonlit curls and strode back in the direction of the city center.

Horror beating in him like a second pulse, Levan raised his wand and followed.

37

• • • •

Triple-Crossing

As Levan tailed Saffron back into the city center, the crypt-silence of night making way for tavern brawls and moans of pleasure, the blue shroud of darkness making way for ruby and sapphire and gold, he felt his conviction slip.

She would have to die.