“More than a good start,” he agreed. “We have Fi to thank.”
“So we do.” Kashvi pulled up a chair and slid her cup closer, a soft scrape against the brass tabletop. “You come through when you need to, smuggler.”
She spoke the tease with a tip of her cup. Fi stuck out hertongue and joined her in a drink. The wine went down hot, a burn in her belly and a pleasant medley of spices coating her tongue.
Boden flipped the page of his notebook, callused fingers skimming over neat handwriting. Drink untouched. “We’ve had ten volunteers for combat. A few more on the fence. I won’t force anyone, but I’ll check in over the next few days, see if I can convince some more.”
Supplies. Weapons. People. He’d talked of little else, drawing the shadows beneath his eyes deeper than their usual unhealthy shade.
“Bodie,” Fi chastised. “Put that work away. It’s late.”
“Listen to your sister,” Kashvi agreed.
The rare dual assault? Mayor Boden didn’t stand a chance.
“We don’t know how much time we have,” he said.
“Ten conscripts,” Kashvi said. “On top of the three of us. You’ll easily have five more once they see those gorgeous weapons Yvette’s made. We’ll have enough crossbows to put in everyone’s hands. Mal has shelter and supplies lined up for any who don’t want to fight. The rest, we work on tomorrow.” She held up a toast. “Drink.Now.”
Fi liked Kashvi when she didn’t have a stick up her ass.
Even worry-walrus Boden broke a grin. “Nice to see you in a good mood.”
“Nice to be working toward something worthwhile.” Kashvi swirled her cup, distorting the curls of steam. “And this… partnership with the daeyari is going better than expected.”
Fi would toast to that improvement in temper, however grudgingly Kashvi spoke the words. The three of them clinked cups then drank, the tavern silent apart from a groan of wind over the roof. Then, a sigh from Boden. He tilted his cup, studying the dark liquid.
“When we were little,” he said, “Dad took us every year to visit the Nightglade Winery. Went on the haunted cart ride. Begged the winemaker for drinks. You remember that, Fi?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Fi studied her cup, voice low. “I remember.”
She’d seen her first Void horse at that winery, dressed in strips of gauze like a phantom to spook visitors. Everyone else was enraptured by the animal’s ghostly silver scales. Fi couldn’t look away from its sightless eyes and black sclera—Void-touched. Like her.
“The owner gave us little shot glasses full of sparkling grape juice.” Boden laughed. “We pretended they were wine. Swirled and toasted with our pinkies out.”
By all the Shattered Planes, what a memory. “An excellent vintage.” Fi held up her cup, adopting the pompous appraiser’s tone they’d played at during their childhood antics.
Boden sniffed his wine with a snobbish nose scrunch. “Hints of bird nest and old moss.”
Fi laughed. “Yeah, then Astrid would…”
Silence fell. Fi met Boden’s pained stare, this hollowed haunt they carried between them, a fond memory they should have been sharing with one more old friend at their table.
“Astrid would steal the real thing for us,” Boden said. His finality wasn’t just the end of the story. It was the end of the childhood they’d shared, ripped apart a decade ago and tossed to different corners of the territories.
Fi caught herself grasping at the scraps. Astrid’s betrayal lived like a hot coal in her stomach, wrapped up in burning memories and burning lips that didn’t easily extinguish. It was Fi’s fault Astrid became an Arbiter. It was Astrid’s fault Fi had nearly died in that explosion in Thomaskweld. Both of them striking blows they could never take back.
And yet… Astrid had hesitated on the train. She’d had ablade against Fi’s throat, vengeance in her eyes, but refused to go for the lethal strike. Fi had still hurt to see Astrid in danger, even when they’d fallen too far apart to repair.
A mess. It was all just a mess in Fi’s head.
Boden lifted his cup. “To old memories.”
Kashvi joined. “To a successful heist.”
“If we’re doing that,” Fi complained, “Antal ought to be here.”
Kashvi puckered as if she’d downed a shot of lemon juice. That exact look was the reason Antal had opted not to join the gathering inside, followed by the guilt-inducing qualifier that he’d wait nearby in case Fi needed him. He could bear the cold better than a human. He shouldn’t have to. She hated the idea of him waiting alone outside while she celebrated the heist he’d helped orchestrate.
