“I want to know the story, all of it,” Lola said. “I want to know who Enne’s father was, how he survived the Revolution and if he’s still alive. I want to know how Lourdes ended up with Enne. I want to know about the Shadow Game, the House of Shadows. I want to know everything from the past so that we all can stop dying for it.”
The Bargainer laughed. “A noble request. It won’t even take power to fulfill—after all, I was there. I know all the answers you seek.”
She held out her hand.
Lola hesitated, her heart pounded furiously. “What is the price?”
“The price is the last thing you have left. It’s a fair price. If you want to devote yourself to this cause, you must be devoted wholeheartedly. And your heart is torn.”
The image of Enne filled Lola’s mind. Her friend. Her lord. She knew such a deal did not make them enemies, but it didn’t make them friends, either. There could come a time when they found themselves on opposite sides of this battle, and a torn heart was a dangerous one.
“Fine,” Lola murmured, before she could change her mind. She shook the Bargainer’s hand.
More memories filled Lola’s mind, but in reverse. She felt the edge of a broken wine bottle against her throat, Enne wielding it with steady hands. She watched the nods of the Scarhands and Spirits as they sentenced her brother to death. She heard the confidence in Jac’s voice when she imagined him telling her that he’d gotten the legend he always wanted.
The wounds—some old, some fresh—bled again, until Lola could feel the pain of all her betrayals and misjudgments like cuts across her skin.
The last memory was Tock muttering about Lola being paranoid but still smiling in her sleep when Lola kissed her goodbye. Lola hated that word, and so this memory hurt, but it hadn’t scarred. And so she didn’t notice when the Bargainer’s power drew it from her, when claws dug itself into Lola’s mind and cleaved that whole person out—the last thing she had left.
When Lola let go of the Bargainer’s hand, a darkness shrouded her consciousness, the hollow parts where not just one memory, but many, had been removed. She didn’t know what they were, but they must have been comforting because without them, she felt wounded and angry and paranoid and nothing else.
The Bargainer licked her lips, as though finishing a good meal. “Do you remember what you gave up?”
Lola frowned. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t as important as what you’ll tell me. And you’ll tell me—”
“Everything,” the Bargainer said, nodding. She placed a hand on Lola’s shoulder and led her away from the ruins of the fire. “Maybe you can even tell me what this card means.”
She flashed Lola the Devil card, clutching it between two manicured white fingernails. On the back readTHE HERMIT—Lola’s own card.
I’m her target, Lola thought with despair. If the legends about the Bargainer were true, then she wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. After all, Lola had just given up the last thing she had left—what other value did she have?
But even if Lola Sanguick had resented them for it, if there was one thing she had learned from her friends, it was how to play.
Lola slung her arm over the Bargainer’s shoulder, making the girl jolt and shoot her a surprised, dangerous look. The sort from someone who didn’t have anyone else, either.
“It means that you and I are going to be friends,” Lola said.
HARVEY
After delivering Zula Slyk’s card to Harrison, Harvey Gabbiano, murderer, returned to the Orphan Guild in need of a shower. He stripped off his clothes, still reeking of smoke and gasoline, and threw them in a waste bin. Then he stood in the prison’s communal bathroom and watched as the soot-blackened water ran off him and circled the rusted drain, and he cried.
I’m not okay,he thought.I haven’t been okay in a long time.
The despair had crept over him slowly, too slowly for him to recognize it for what it was, and now its tendrils had hooked around him and encased themselves over his skin. He felt heavy with it, buried in it. Though it wasn’t the first time he’d had thoughts about ending his life, he’d never tried before. And he had a terrified feeling that, since it didn’t work this time, it would never work. He would always be trapped. He would never find a way out.
He wanted to sink into bed for the rest of the night, if not the week—for as long as he could until Harrison Augustine summoned him again. Just the thought of that made his hands tremble as he dried himself off.
Harvey had become a monster, not because he was cruel or ruthless—but because he was weak. And that only made him hate himself more.
Despite how sweet the idea of bed sounded, he didn’t want to be alone right now, so he walked to the other end of the Royal Prison. He found Bryce in his office, hunched over the Orphan Guild’s ledger. Harvey didn’t know how Bryce could focus on everyday tasks when the world was crumbling around them. But then again, Bryce was probably elated right now—he was getting everything he wanted.
“I need to talk to you,” Harvey told him softly, making Bryce nod and motion to the seat in front of him. Harvey took it, but he looked out the window rather than at his friend. It had started to flurry—early this time of year for snow. At first, he only wanted to ask for developments on the game and on the Bargainer, but he was floundering under the weight of his secrets. He took a deep breath, only to cough from inhaling so much smoke earlier. “I have...”
Harvey’s voice caught like a stopper had been shoved down his throat. He felt suddenly thickheaded. It had been so many years since Harvey had learned of Bryce’s omerta that he’d forgotten that Bryce had been unable to say the word, had been unable to tell anyone.
But Harvey needed to. He needed to tell someone.
“What?” Bryce said, furrowing his dark brows.
