Sam
The storm on his face is unmistakable, his jaw tight and his eyes black with anger.
She swallows her surprise. Will rarely loses his composure like this.
She has seen that look only a handful of times, the rage in him contrasting with the easy calm of his walk, and in those moments, she knows that his strings have been tugged so tight that any wrong movement will make them snap.
Will doesn’t bother to meet her gaze. When he passes her, he says, “Clean him up and send some lunch for him.”
When he’s gone, she turns back to the room and opens the door.
She sucks her breath in through her teeth.
The sight of Ari like this makes her chest twist. Will never loses his temper this way, not so much that he’d make the extra effort to hurt Ari with his own hands instead of using alchemy.
There is no grace or strategy to inflicting injuries like this.
It is just brutality, a desire to feel the impact of each hit.
Of course Will had intentionally sent her in here to tend to Ari. He wanted her to see.
Sam heads into the bathroom and prepares a warm towel in the sink. When she returns, he’s lifted his head and his eyes are on her, somber and dull. She gingerly pulls down his gag, then sucks in her breath. His bottom lip is split open, and another bloody bruise mars the edge of his mouth.
“Stay still,” she says.
He obeys as she presses the wet cloth gently to the bruise near his eyebrow. She wipes the streak of blood away, then holds the cloth to the cut on his lip. Her fingers brush briefly against his skin, and she feels him shiver at her touch.
“Did you say something to piss him off?” she asks as she works.
“I think it was what I didn’t say,” he replies.
She looks at him. “Answer his questions,” she says softly. “Will’s a rough interrogator. Just because he wants you alive doesn’t mean he won’t take you to the brink of death.”
Ari looks sidelong at her. “He’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”
“You should be more frightened of him.”
Ari winces, a damp curl falling over his eyes. There are more wounds on him than she can see. “And what about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“You said I should be more afraid of Will.” He nods at her. “Are you afraid?”
The expression in his eyes is so sincere and concerned that it reminds her of the dark weeks after her mother’s accident, when he would comfort her without knowing what had happened. Her cheeks heat up, and she turns her eyes away from him.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asks.
He doesn’t answer, so she taps his bound arms gingerly, applying pressure in specific spots to see if it triggers a reaction. When she reaches his stomach, he suddenly shies from her touch, his face tight with pain. The fabric of his shirt is damp there.
“Let me see,” she says.
He holds still for her as she gently unbuttons his shirt and pulls the fabric back.
She hisses. It’s not a kick. A vicious gash, deep and crimson, runs diagonally along his waist and up his chest, as if Will had carved him with a knife.
She gingerly brushes the skin around the wound, and he flinches, the muscles of his abdomen tightening at her touch.
“You need an alchiatrist,” she murmurs. “Or you’ll bleed out. I’ll get the guards.”
“Sam,” he says.
She pauses to look at him.
There is a sudden weariness about him, as if he can barely hold himself upright. She remembers this from childhood, too, the way he would sit quietly in his chair, so world-weary for his age, his eyes far too large and dark for his small face.
“Sam,” he says again, his voice so quiet she can barely hear him. “They have my family, Sam.” His gaze is hollow and defeated, his eyes distant. He isn’t looking at her anymore, but at the wall on the other end of the room, as if he can see through it.
“Lumines?” she whispers, and he gives her a nearly imperceptible nod.
His family. Sam blinks and tries not to let his words pierce her heart. Ari has never told her before about his family—not explicitly, at least.
But now she thinks back through all their old letters, their thousands of wayward topics.
Just like her, had he hidden his family throughout their endless ramblings about life and philosophy, had he buried his pain within musings about their favorite books and foods and movies? Had she never bothered to look?
His eyes are haunted with grief. “Lumines didn’t kill your mother,” he goes on. “But they did target her. Reed wanted to take her hostage, told me to use her to force you to meet me again. When I refused, he showed me photos of my family.”
Sam’s hands tremble. Her mouth feels dry. Ari could be lying to her, but somehow she doubts it, can hear the sincerity in his voice. Someone beat them to it. Someone else had wanted her mother dead. But who else would be interested in doing such a thing?
“I was supposed to kill you on the beach last night,” Ari says softly. His gaze locks on hers. “You were my target, Sam.”
She thinks of his embrace by the water, how he had transmuted away her grief. She thinks of how easily he could have taken her life in that moment.
“Why didn’t you do it?” she murmurs.
He utters a sad little laugh. “Sam.” His voice is so gentle, and in it, she can hear their entire childhood together. “You are my heart. If you die, I die.”
She hates that she can’t trust him, and yet every fiber of her being wants to.
She hates that even now he can make her waver.
She hates that he can bring the truth buried deep in her to the surface, that if she’s being honest with herself, there was only one boy she was ever in love with. That it has always been Ari.
“Where is your family now?” she whispers.
“They’re in Surat, Gujarat. Back home.”
Surat, Gujarat. So, this is the stranglehold Reed has had Ari in.
He shows Ari his family, and Ari does what he is told.
And then she realizes, with a deep pang, that he risked all of them in order to warn her, that in preventing Lumines from killing her that night on the beach, he might have signed his family’s death warrant.
Oh, Ari. Her heart feels like it’s bleeding.
“What else does Reed have planned?” Sam asks in a low voice.
But Ari doesn’t answer her, can’t bear to look at her.
She draws closer to him. “Ari, please,” she whispers. “If you don’t talk, they’re going to kill you.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Ari answers. His eyes swivel to her. “Sam, I know what it feels like, being trapped. Find out who killed your mother. Nothing else will set you free.”
It’s an absurd statement, in his position, after everything that has happened. And yet she can see the anguish in his eyes, feel the sorrow emanating from him.
She swallows and straightens. Her mind is spinning and she feels dizzy; she needs to get some fresh air. She steps away from his bruised body and his bent head, then turns to the door.
Sam, find out who killed your mother.
As she steps out into the hall, she can feel her breaths coming quick and shallow. The two guards, surprised by her presence, snap to attention.
“Get Demeter,” she says without looking back. “Tell her she’s needed right away.”
That night, when Will calls for Sam, she arrives to see Diamond Taylor seated in the kitchen. The woman looks as proper as ever, although this time, Sam can clearly see the dark circles under her eyes.
“Sit,” Diamond tells her, and Sam settles without a word onto one of the stools at the counter. As Will makes himself a drink, Sam notes how his sleeves have been tugged haphazardly up to his elbows, the top buttons of his collared shirt undone. His hair is unusually messy.
Sam braces herself, wondering if they will punish her for the secret meeting she had with Ari. Will they kill her? Somehow, the terror of the idea feels dulled tonight, and Sam finds herself morbidly curious instead, wondering what they might do as if guessing at the end of a movie.
“Demeter sent her report on Shakespeare,” Will says. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“You almost killed him today,” Sam says.
“You’re so concerned,” Will answers coolly as he lifts his drink. Sam shivers at the undercurrent of darkness in his words. He isn’t done with her yet.
“He’s our most valuable hostage,” Sam replies.
“And he’s still alive.”
“Enough,” Diamond says, and both of them settle into silence. The woman leans against the counter. “Take better care of him, Will.”
“Why?” Will narrows his eyes at his mother. “You have no interest in handing Shakespeare back.”
“No,” Diamond says. “But Lumines is only cooperating because they think he’s alive. So keep him alive until the exchange. He’s not very useful if he’s dead, is he?”
Sam listens in silence, but her heart is beating rapidly. So, they’ve decided to kill Ari instead of giving him back to Lumines.
Will sighs. “They’ll have their doubts the exchange is going to happen at all.”
“Then we’ll have to be convincing, won’t we?” Diamond rises, her face expressionless. She doesn’t look at Sam, and Sam knows with a prickle of unease that it means Diamond is unhappy with her. “But I won’t be talking anyone into anything.” She nods at Will. “That’s your job.”
Will says nothing as his mother walks past him. When she reaches him, she touches his shoulder gently. “Arrange the meeting,” she says, steel in her voice. Will is not her son tonight, but a mere subordinate. “And report to me when it’s set.”
Then she leaves the kitchen without acknowledging Sam at all.
A chill runs through her. Diamond has left her punishment in Will’s hands.
For a long time after Diamond leaves, Will stays silent. He pours two glasses of whisky while Sam waits, then slides one to her while sipping his own carefully, his brows furrowed and his thoughts elsewhere. Sam doesn’t touch her drink.
At last, he straightens and walks around the counter to stand before her, close enough for their legs to touch. Sam keeps her chin up and her stare steady on him, but her heart is racing wildly. His pupils are dilated, and she knows he’s taken sand tonight.
“What’s wrong, Sam?” he says.
She narrows her eyes at him. “I think that goes without saying,” she replies.
“It seems a lot has gone without saying lately.”
She can feel her heartbeat quickening, but holds her ground. “Then let’s talk. What’s on your mind?”
He smiles at her, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. “Do you remember the oath that you took?”
“Yes,” she says.
“I’m not convinced you do.” He takes a step closer. “You bleed, we all bleed. Of course, you know what that means, don’t you? If we bleed, then you bleed, too.”
Sam lifts her chin and forces herself to keep her gaze on his. “I went to see Ari in an attempt to get intel for us.”
“Is that the only reason you wanted to see him?”
She stares steadily at him. “What other reason would I have, Will?”
He returns her gaze without blinking. As they face each other, Sam searches his face for the vulnerable boy she’d once seen in a weakly lit bedroom.
But he isn’t here tonight. Tonight, he is the heir to Grand Central, the man who ties a blindfold around her eyes.
Will steps close enough now that her knees touch either side of his hips.
He rests his hands on either side of her stool, then leans close enough to whisper in her ear.
“I saw the way he held you,” he murmurs.
He grips her thigh now, and beneath his fingers, she feels a creeping chill, tingles of pain as he transmutes ice against her skin. She fights back a wince.
“He’s a bioalchemist,” she answers. “It was a part of his trap.”
“As was your response to his touch, I’m sure.”
Ari’s gentle voice echoes in her mind. Sam, you are my heart.
“It didn’t mean anything,” she says.
His voice has turned low and dangerous. “Has he ever touched you before?”
“In the way that you touch me?” She’s challenging him again, daring him to react. “No.”
His eyes are dark, searching her gaze for secrets. “Mm,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Do you want him to?”
Her leg is trembling now from the pain. “No,” she says faintly.
“The next time you come to me, shall I send for him and let him watch?”
Her breaths come shallow. “I’m sure you’d like that,” she says through gritted teeth.
His gaze sears her, and for the first time, she sees the possessiveness burning hot in his eyes.
“Listen carefully to me, Sam,” he murmurs.
“I know you’ve had a tough time. I know you grieve your mother.
I know you acted recklessly in your despair.
Let it be a testament to your reputation and value to us that you are still alive after your transgression.
But I want to make something very clear.
You are bound to the same code as everyone else in Grand Central.
Know that, should you misstep again, there is nothing I can do to save you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she manages to say.
“And as for Shakespeare.” He bends closer until his lips brush her ear. “If he touches you again,” he says softly, “I’ll cut his hands off. It’d be a shame, for such a talented alchemist.”
The hatred in his voice is so deep. She knows he means it.
“You’re going to kill him anyway,” she whispers.
“Then I’ll let you decide whether it happens quickly or slowly.”
Sam feels dizzy, feels the world around her threatening to cave in.
At last, the pain in her leg becomes too much to bear.
She pushes him away and jerks her leg back, trembling.
When she looks down, she sees blue marks against her skin, the beginnings of frostbite.
She puts her own hand there, but can’t transmute the bruises away.
They will have to heal on their own, something Will knows.
Will’s hand comes up to curl around the back of her neck.
“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he murmurs.
“I forget nothing,” she whispers, and he kisses her.