Chapter 12
Ivy
Just before we turn the corner to bring us in view of the Frolic Theater, I stop Casimir with a hand on his arm. When the courtesan turns to face me with a gently questioning expression, my heart beats a little faster.
Out of all the men who’ve become entwined in my life, Casimir has always been the one I least need to fear judgment from. But that sweetness makes me hesitate to expose him to the grittier parts of the world I came from.
“The people in Crow’s Close are… pretty rough around the edges,” I say. “They’re used to having to lie and fight to survive.”
Casimir studies my face. As usual, he picks up on the things I haven’t quite said. “It won’t be anything like my pampered noble life. I know.”
I grapple with the words to get across what I most want to convey. “They aren’t all bad people. I mean, some of them are, but for a lot—it’s just another way to get by, for people who didn’t have many options. Or a sketchy business that isn’t really any more immoral than plenty of things merchants supposedly on the right side of the law get away with. You just have to be prepared that they might be hostile about me bringing you in there.”
“Because I’m a stranger. It makes sense.” Casimir brushes his fingers from my temple over my hair. “It’s all right, Kindness. I know this place is part of who you were—who you are. You had to skirt the edges of the law. But you did it for good reasons. Nothing I see in that place is going to change how I feel about you.”
My throat tightens. Yes, I guess that is what I was most worried about underneath, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, let alone him.
I take on a more chipper tone. “It does have a few bright spots. The main pub makes the best amber spritz I’ve ever tasted. Not that we’ll have time to stop for a drink on this visit.”
Casimir chuckles lightly. “Perhaps another day.”
I’m not sure he realizes exactly what he’s getting into even after everything I’ve said, but I don’t want to send him into a panic with horror stories either. He’ll take a read of the place quickly enough once we get there.
And if he regrets agreeing to accompany me, well, we’ll deal with that when it comes.
I lead the way along the Tangleside street to the theater. One of the comedic shows is going on even in the midst of the Order of the Wild’s takeover.
I might be imagining it, but the laughter that careens from the inner doorway has a slightly frantic edge to it.
People need their escapes in times of crisis more than ever.
But we’re not here to take in the entertainment. I veer sharply and take Casimir down the basement stairs that lead to the hidden passage that connects the theater to Florian’s smallest and most secret neighborhood.
The courtesan doesn’t remark on the dankness of the basement room or the darkness of the magical passage. He remains silent as we ascend the identical stairs on the opposite end and emerge onto the enclosed street that holds the most established illicit businesses in the city—possibly the entire country.
He’s taking it all in, absorbing it and forming his own understanding. That’s why I decided I needed him with me for this negotiation, if he was willing to come.
He understands people better than anyone I’ve ever known. And his gift can tell us what we can give our potential allies that they’d want most.
I had to bully one of the bosses of Crow’s Close’s main gang into accepting my last proposition. I’m hoping to handle this discussion in a more amicable manner. But charm isn’t really one of my strengths.
As we cross the road to the largest building in the Close—gambling hall, temple to Kosmel, and headquarters for the Black Talons gang—I sweep my gaze over the street. Casimir and I have both dressed fairly plainly, with the hoods of our cloaks shadowing our faces. The way I’d normally dress when visiting this den of criminals.
We shouldn’t stick out at a glance. But I have no doubt that the people I intend to speak with will pick the courtesan out as an interloper swiftly enough.
We step into the first-floor gambling hall to the spicy smell of fried goldrud root and a sharper whiff of hazebloom smoke. It’s late afternoon, too early for the main nighttime crowd, but far enough along in the day that a decent number of avid gamblers have stirred from their beds. About half of the tables scattered across the sprawling room are full, urgent voices and hopeful shouts echoing off the ceiling.
I weave through those tables around the base of the massive silver statue of Kosmel that stands in the center of the building. It only takes a minute to spot the man I’m looking for.
Garom Rochimek is sitting back against one of the empty tables in his usual scruffy disguise. The memory flits through my head of Julita’s skeptical remarks when I approached him weeks ago, with a pang that’s amusement and grief mixed together.
What would my ghostly noblewoman friend have had to say about the deal we’re attempting to make today?
When I’m close enough for Garom to make out my features beneath my hood, his gaze snags on my face. His eyebrows arch slightly beneath the rumpled blond hair of his wig.
Then his gaze slides to Casimir, and his pale eyes narrow.
He pushes himself out of his chair before I’ve quite reached him, keeping his voice low. “Come for another chat, Ivy, after all the trouble I went to getting you out of this city? You’ve used up your favors.”
I give him a small smile. “I had a good reason to return. And in this particular case, I may be able to do you a favor.”
“Who’s this pretty boy? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boytoy scampering at your heels now.”
If the jab bothers Casimir, he doesn’t show it. I roll my eyes, having no intention of revealing that I’ve actually got four paramours at the moment. “He’s a good friend, and he can confirm everything I’d like to discuss with you. But the details aren’t anything I think you’d want spoken about in broader company.”
Garom grunts, but he turns and shuffles toward the doorway that leads to the building’s back staircase.
As we head up the stairs, I clear my throat. “The proposition I have isn’t just for you but for all three of the Black Talons’ leaders. Are Sonia and Hellar around, or should I arrange to come back another time?”
Garom aims another piercing look at me. “What exactly is this about, girl?”
I lift my chin, letting my smile stretch a little farther despite the tension knotting my stomach. “How would you like to have the ear of the future queen?”
Hardened gang boss though he may be, I’ve managed to shock him. His expression twitches before he checks himself. “Very funny.”
“I’m not joking. I spoke with the heir to the Melchiorek line just a couple of hours ago. She doesn’t support all of her father’s policies, and she’s willing to work with you to make your work go more smoothly.”
Garom’s gift is a knack for separating truth from lies. He’ll be able to tell that I’m being honest.
I’ve managed to strike him speechless for a few seconds. His throat works with a swallow, and then he swings his arm for us to continue following him up the stairs. “Come on, then. I should be able to round up my colleagues if you aren’t in a terrible hurry.”
Relief trickles through my chest. I really didn’t want to have to stew in anticipation for another day—or to give the Black Talons’ bosses extra time to scheme amongst themselves.
Garom brings us not to his personal office but to a larger space set up like a sitting room. Several padded armchairs stand in a loose ring that fills most of the space, with side tables between them and a lower table in the middle that looks as if the legs could be heightened if one wanted to play cards at it.
A faint sour scent drifts from the extensive liquor cabinet against one wall. Those walls are thick enough to shut out all the noise from the gambling hall that filters up through the gap around the godlen statue outside.
“Sit,” Garom tells us, and pokes his head back into the hall. After a quick muttered conversation with a lackey, he returns and drops into one of the chairs opposite the two Casimir and I have chosen.
He watches Casimir rather than me as he slides off his wig. Wanting to evaluate the unknown party’s reaction, I assume.
Because underneath that wig, the gang boss’s scalp is shaved and scarred with a chaotic mess of lines where he sacrificed a significant portion of skin—along with who knows what else that I can’t see—for his gift. It’s a tradition among the Black Talons families, although only known in the sort of circles they usually run in.
To someone unfamiliar with the city’s underworld, it’ll simply look disturbing.
Casimir’s mild expression doesn’t flicker at all, but then, I told him in advance what to expect. He tips his head toward the other man. “I appreciate you taking the time to hear us out.”
Garom’s eyebrows leap up again. “You’re one for pretty speech, huh? And what’s that in your mouth there?”
I tense, but Casimir obligingly parts his lips again to give a quick view of the jeweled teeth that replaced the eight molars he sacrificed.
Garom looks at me, his voice taking on an edge of a sneer. “You brought some gaudy teeth for your royal offering? What, is he the princess’s boytoy?”
I harden my gaze. “He’s familiar with the inner workings of court and a trusted friend to the future queen as well as me. You can count on him to know more about what’s possible than I do. Think of him as her representative in this meeting.”
The gang boss simply guffaws at my words, but he doesn’t make any more heckling remarks. Casimir’s demeanor remains as unruffled as ever.
The door squeaks open, and a statuesque woman strides in. She sets her hands on her hips and studies the three of us with a faintly irritated expression.
I’ve only seen Sonia Alinnya at a distance before, but everyone in Crow’s Close knows she’s the matriarch of another of the three Black Talons families. Her scalp is as scarred as Garom’s, though she’s let the dark hair that can still grow tumble down to her shoulders in its uneven waves, partly hiding the pattern of her sacrifice.
It’s hard to tell how many years she has under her belt with the simple but stark cosmetics that sharpen her features, but I know she has children older than me.
“What’s this all about?” she demands.
Garom motions her toward the chairs. “Ivy and her friend are going to explain. I think it’ll be worth hearing them out.”
Sonia grimaces, but she trusts her colleague enough to drop into one of the chairs. She considers her fingernails and then me and Casimir with equal intentness, but she doesn’t speak.
I don’t see any point in launching into my pitch until the third person who needs to hear it arrives.
Which he does, a few minutes later. The youngest of the three bosses—though he’s still got at least a decade on me—saunters into the room with a swipe of his hand through the strip of bleached hair on top of his head.
Hellar took over the Witorek family’s part of the Black Talons a couple of years ago after his mother and last remaining parent was offed under typically murky circumstances. I’m not sure whether rival criminals or the Crown’s Watch were responsible, but I suspect he’ll be the hardest sell on our proposal.
His scars form a geometric pattern that dapples his pinkish brown skin around the sides and back of his scalp, leaving a narrow crop of hair on top. The fine strands flop over the edge of scarring like wheat drooping in a field.
He drapes himself across one of the armchairs without prompting and considers us with an air of boredom. “What was so urgent you had to disturb my game, Garom?”
The older man lifts his chin toward me and Casimir. “These two have come to speak to us on behalf of the woman who would be queen.”
The newcomers know he wouldn’t say it if he hadn’t judged it to be true. There’s no mistaking the interest that sparks in both of their eyes, though Sonia is better at tempering it.
She adjusts her position, taking a skeptical tone. “Oh, really?”
Hellar chuckles, but he’s straightened up to give us more of his attention. “And what does the supposed queen want with us?”
I keep my posture straight and my voice steady. “You’ve obviously heard about Princess Petra and the message she delivered yesterday. Every word of it is true. Advisor Lothar launched a conspiracy against the king, murdered him and Queen Ishild and attempted to do the same to the royal children, and has been encouraging scourge sorcery among his followers.”
Hellar twitches his shoulder in a careless shrug. “What’s any of that to the Black Talons?”
Sonia’s gaze has turned to a glower. “It’s not as if we had things so sweet under King Konram. Let the scourge sorcerers tear each other apart. We’ll be fine no matter what.”
I focus on her. “Are you sure about that? Have you heard about the kinds of behavior Lothar and his Order of the Wild are encouraging? They want everyone to tap into their baser instincts—they want violence and chaos. What kind of an advantage will any of you have if everyone is willing to ignore the law and act out however they want?”
Hellar makes a scoffing sound. “We’ll still be the experts.”
“But you’ll be up against people who can tap into more magic than anyone should be able to. Who are only looking out for their own selfish interests. The moment they want something you do too…” I wave my hand through the air. “It’s gone.”
Garom leans back in his chair, seeming to watch both me and his colleagues with equal interest. “And how would things be better under another Melchiorek? We’ve lost good people and good deals in the years of Konram’s reign and his father before him. This new queen might be even worse.”
I snort. “Do you think I’d be backing her if she had it out for everyone who’s remotely criminally inclined? She knows about my past. She knows—” I catch myself before I mention my own illicit magic, which this trio doesn’t need to find out about. “She knows, and she hasn’t judged me for it. She recognizes that things need to change so all of Silana’s citizens can make their living as they see fit.”
“She says that now,” Hellar remarks dryly. “Watch how fast she changes her tune once she gets what she wants from us.”
Sonia leans forward. “What exactly does she want from us? Why are you here?”
“She asked me to reach out to people in the city who could help her get a foothold against the Order of the Wild,” I say. “It’s no easy thing with the kind of power they can throw around and how they’ve been smearing her family. They’re killing everyone who opposes them—everyone who’d be her allies. She needs people who know the city and its people, who can speak to those people and tell them what we’re really up against, convince them that Lothar and the Order need to be taken down.”
Hellar wrinkles his nose. “And her put up in his place.”
“She has the training. She’s been preparing for this her entire life. And most of the nobles trust the Melchiorek name. It’ll be hard for anyone to set the country back in order without their agreement too.”
A tingle passes through the air beside me, telling me Casimir has extended his gift. He lets out a soft cough to catch the gang bosses’ attention. “Princess Petra isn’t asking anything at all of you yet, other than to talk. This is your chance to have a direct influence over the running of the entire country. I’ve spoken with her too—I can vouch that she wants to negotiate with you.”
“And what could she give us that we don’t already have?” Sonia asks.
“She can call off the Crown’s Watch. Ensure that you maintain a monopoly over certain types of trade. Negotiate lesser punishments.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “I’m not saying she’ll look the other way when it comes to issues like murder, but you could arrange a lot more room to maneuver.”
Garom lifts his voice with a twinge of reluctance. “He’s telling the truth. He truly believes all that. Of course, the princess herself could be a fabulous liar.”
I pounce on the opening. “You could find that out easily enough. We’ll arrange a meeting on neutral ground. It’s not as if you have anything to fear from her. The only crimes she’s interested in tackling right now are her parents’ murder and the illegal sorcery being practiced in this city and the rest of the country.”
He looks as if he’s leaning toward accepting the offer. But then something shifts in his eyes, and he peers at me with an intensity that sends a shiver through my nerves.
His lips curl with a hint of what I think is revulsion. “Back when you had to make your hasty exit from Florian, word was going around about a riven sorcerer on the loose. The description reminded me of you—pale hair, pale skin, short and slim.”
My gut lurches, but I set my face in the blandest expression I can summon. My tone matches. “That’s quite a joke. Do I seem insane to you?”
His gaze skims up and down me, and the chill seeps deeper into my body. I didn’t exactly answer the question, not in a way he can judge my honesty by.
Are we going to lose our chance at an alliance over my magic without my even using it?
The wretched power takes that moment to yank at me, demanding that I let it loose to force agreement from their throats. As if that would win us anything but animosity and horror.
I must keep my poker face well enough. Though the question doesn’t totally fade from Garom’s eyes, he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “Your mind is definitely too keen by half.”
Casimir steps in with all his usual smoothness, changing the subject back to the most important matter at hand. “You’re free to make your own decision, of course. That’s what the new queen can offer you more than anything—a chance to make your voice heard. Lothar doesn’t care about any interests other than his own.”
I suppress the urge to reach over and squeeze his hand in thanks. I was right to bring him with me.
We work together well—as so much more than just lovers.
“That is the impression I’ve gotten of that armless asshole, I have to say,” Sonia mutters, and my spirits lift a little higher.
Hellar flicks his fingers dismissively, but he doesn’t outright argue, which I’ll take as enough of a victory. “If we can agree on a reasonable meeting spot, I could consider hearing the princess out. But our friendship won’t come cheap.”
I pull my lips into another smile. “I never expected it would.”
We’ve won the first round. I didn’t know for sure we’d make it even this far.
Now we’ll have to find out whether Petra can hold her own against the most powerful criminals in the city—and win them over at the same time.