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“What?” Maggie paused and looked up over her glasses.
The room finally descended into blessed silence. Maggie’s hair had been threatening to fall from its loosely pinned bun all morning, and now a long piece did fall in front of her face. Maggie pushed it back, blinking a little, like she’d been so preoccupied with her work that she’d forgotten about Esta completely.
“Whatever you’re grinding up in there—it’s dead,” Esta said, trying to keep her voice pleasant and not as frayed as her nerves felt. “Completely and utterly. You can’t do anything else to it.”
Maggie glanced down and gave a small curse that might have been amusing in any other situation. “I overdid it,” she said. “And it was the last of my camphor. I won’t be able to make any more of the Quellant until I get more.” She cursed again.
“So let’s go get some,” Esta suggested. She wasn’t used to sitting still for so long, and being trapped inside the dingy apartment was doing nothing for her nerves. “I’m sure there’s a pharmacy or a shop or something in this town.”
Maggie chewed on her lip, considering Esta’s proposal, but eventually she shook her head. “I’ll start on something else instead. If Jericho happens to come back today, I don’t want to miss him.”
“I’m sure North would wait for you,” Esta told Maggie. She actually wasn’t sure, considering how angry he’d been about the truth tablets.
But Maggie ended the conversation by returning to her work.
A breeze stirred through the window, but it did nothing for the close stuffiness of the small apartment. “Or we could go to them,” Esta offered. “We can head out to the show and see if they’ve learned anything or made any progress. Getting out of this apartment might be what we both need.” After all, she couldn’t steal the dagger from a distance, and she definitely didn’t trust that Cordelia wouldn’t take it for the Antistasi.
“We already agreed that it’s safer for us to stay here,” Maggie reminded Esta, but the yearning was clear in Maggie’s expression.
“Did we?” Esta asked, her patience ragged. “Because I don’t remember having much say in the matter.”
“With those incendiaries I set off, they’re probably already looking for you—for all of us,” Maggie said. “Jericho and Cordelia were right to leave us here.”
Esta let out a long, resigned breath. “Maybe, but I hate that we have no idea what’s happening out there.” And that fact, along with the gnawing absence of her affinity, was driving Esta mad.
“I trust Jericho,” Maggie said, like he was the only variable.
“Sure… but do you trust Cordelia?” Esta pressed.
“She’s Antistasi,” Maggie said, and it sounded an awful lot like she was trying to convince herself.
“Maybe…” Esta frowned. “But it feels like we’re putting a lot of faith in someone we don’t really know.”
“You saw that tattoo on Cordelia’s leg.” Maggie pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “It covered most of her thigh. Putting herself through that would have taken a real commitment to the Antistasi’s cause.”
“Ruth was committed too. Look how that turned out,” Esta said, before she could think better of it.
She realized her misstep immediately when Maggie’s brows drew together.
“I didn’t mean—” Esta stopped, knowing from Maggie’s expression that she needed a different approach. “I’m sorry,” she said, backtracking. “It’s not like you were the only one who was blind to Ruth’s faults. I was right there with you, and I should have known better.”
Maggie’s expression softened a little. “It’s not like she was your sister.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Esta admitted, thanking her lucky stars for that fact. “But I knew someone a lot like her once. It’s just… well, you’d think I would have learned by now.”
Maggie was staring at Esta now, pestle still raised. Her expression had shifted from anger to interest. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Esta said, pretending to brush aside Maggie’s interest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You might try trusting me, you know,” Maggie said. “After all we’ve been through at this point…”
Esta didn’t immediately answer. She knew it would be better if Maggie had to work a little for the information. It would land better, hook her more completely.
Maggie frowned at her. “Never mind. Forget that I even asked. Clearly you’re not ever going to trust me, no matter how many times I save your life.”
Esta could have made up some lie or changed the subject, but she had the sense that she was being presented with an opportunity. Harte was hundreds of miles away, and she was without both her cuff and her affinity. Now that Cordelia had entered the picture, Esta was starting to understand that the Antistasi’s influence might reach farther than she’d expected. She might need an ally, and Maggie seemed the most likely candidate.
“No,” Esta said, the portrait of contriteness. “You’re right. You do deserve to know. But it’s hard for me to talk about my past.”
