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Renton folded his arms over his black T-shirt-clad chest and cut a glare to his friend. “We never finished camp, did we?”
Vesara muttered something in Denesè.
Touching his pockets, Gireth pouted. “I’m never going to win another haul like that.”
“You find a new home for your cheat coin, or you don’t go inside,” Vesara replied.
Muttering obscenities, Gireth scooped handfuls of krotens out of his pockets and arranged them in a phallic shape on the street.
Vesara tucked her knife away. “How very charitable of you.”
“Don’t you dare ask me for rent now. This was all I had to my name. Unless you want to take payment from my body.”
Flames ricocheted off the street as Tenah unleashed a bit of rage. “Someone please tell me what is going on here.”
“Damn it!” Gireth scooped up one of his krotens and flicked it at Aeyis, who pocketed it smoothly. “I was sure Renton would be the first to lose his cool. Sorry, Tenah. We’re going to help you borrow the tome.”
Tenah squeezed her eyes shut against the whirlwind of confusion, needing to ground herself. That surge of wicked anger was quickly overtaken by a surprising flood of warmth in the center of her chest. She hadn’t felt that sensation since before she’d lost Ames.
But why were they all so willing to make sacrifices to aid her? What did they have to gain? Worse, why was she struggling to come up with a reason to resist them?
“You all need to learn to ask before you intervene, you know that?” Tenah muttered, letting out a heavy breath twinged with smoke—residue from her internal fire magic.
“Is that a yes to us intervening?” Gireth asked, a smiling curling on his mouth.”
“I need that tome,” Tenah replied firmly. She looked to Renton, catching his downturned mouth.Whatever. He could judge all he liked.
“You do know the archives are restricted even to me, Ghost Boy,” Vesara commented.
“Ren can get us in,” Aeyis said.
Renton dragged a hand down his stubbled jaw. “We’d likely make it as far as the lobby when my illusion dissolves.”
“Then work on it. Anyone who thinks they glimpse something out of the norm won’t remember it,” Aeyis said.
“Confident little boy, aren’t you? Most of us are immune to the likes of you.” Vesara tapped a painted nail against her temple. “We finish our training here.”
Gireth clapped a hand down on Renton’s shoulder and grinned. “More pressure on Ren to carry through then.”
“Fools,” Vesara muttered.
Renton sighed. “Not my fault if we get caught. I gave fair warning.”
“All we need to do is get through the lobby and into the basement lift unseen. The archives is usually only occupied by historians,” Vesara said. “If wearespotted, claim that you got lost on the way to speak to me about a contract. Act haughty and rich. They like that.”
Vesara walked over to a square cut-out in the building next to the door handle and inserted her hand into the dark space. Tenah stepped closer to catch a better view of the ominous box. “What is that?”
“An identifier lock. If it doesn’t recognize my fingerprints, my hand doesn’t come back out. When the Embassy lets an employee go, they cut off your fingerprints to assure you no longer have access to their secrets.”
A lump formed in Tenah’s throat, trying to recall if her father’s fingers had been smooth. It stung that she couldn’t remember. She hadn’t held his hand in ages.
The door clicked, and the crew filed in silently. Tenah held in a gasp as bittersweet magic spilled into the air, forming a translucent bubble that hid them from view. She picked up the tick in Renton’s jaw as his fingers curled, veins popping along the back of his hands.
Gireth started down the hall, and Vesara jabbed a finger into his ribs.
I lead, shithead, she mouthed.
Aeyis muffled a snort, and a head turned from the lobby. The assassin adjusted his black-framed glasses then returned to reading his paper. Other Embassy-employed sat in neat, square arrangements of chairs or worked behind long waterfall counters broken up by small chunks of privacy glass, as if requesting a hit on a life was no more unusual than making a deposit at a bank.
