But not all hurt was inflicted through crime.
He had noticed the professor’s tremor worsening, the tools being set down with careful deliberation that betrayed strain. Alfie had noticed too. Neither of them had yet told Maisie how swiftly her fatherwas succumbing to his disease.
Faivish exhaled, the severity of the choice closing around him. “I’ll think about it.”
Alfie clapped his shoulder, brisk but not unkind. “Think quick. Vienna isn’t holding its breath, and they’ve been watching us both.”
They stepped back into the brighter lane together. The clamor of the city rushed to meet them, yet the shadow of decision walked with Faivish long after the crowd had swallowed them.
Chapter Six
Not much laterthat summer…
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass jars. Maisie’s pen jerked, spilling ink across her father’s ledger.
Faivish came in half-carrying Alfie. The smell hit before the sight—lamp oil, sweat, and blood.
“Chair,” Faivish ordered, easing him down.
The lamplight showed Alfie’s swollen face, a lip split wide. Maisie’s breath snagged.
“Burschenschaftstudents,” Alfie muttered. He spat pink into a handkerchief, then darker red. “Von Altenburg. Wittelsbach. Bismarck. Vienna’s finest names.” His grimace twisted toward a grin. “They wanted some sport.”
Faivish lifted the lamp, his hands steady in motion but rigid with control. “Not sport. Envy. My grades.”
Maisie’s brow knit, shaken. “But Father’s exams—”
“Numbers, not names,” Faivish said, laying his instruments in a ruthless line. “Merit, not pedigree. They can’t stomach it. So they took him instead of me.”
Alfie groaned, bloodied but defiant. “And Hofstätter’s son was with them.”
The lamp’s brass burned against Maisie’s palm.
“They could have killed you,” Alfie groaned. “Would have.”
“They tried.” Faivish’s glance at her was brief, raw when he looked at Maisie. “If Alfie hadn’t stepped in…” He looked back at his tray. “We’ll use porcelain.”
Her breath caught. “That’s forbidden—”
“So is their violence. And yet it goes unpunished.” His voice carried a weight that silenced her. “Porcelain on gold is stronger. He deserves it.”
She moved closer, her shoulder brushing his. “If they find out—”
“They will. But tonight, he’s my patient. And you’ll help me, won’t you?”
Her throat tightened, but she tilted the lamp to where he needed it.
The hiss of flame filled the silence, broken by Alfie’s ragged breathing and the faint clink of tools. He lowered the cloth, showing the jagged break. “What are we waiting for? Until one of us doesn’t get back up?”
Maisie flinched.
“It’s why your father arranged Calcutta,” Alfie said. “It’s a safer escape and a chance…”
The words hit harder than the slam of the door had.
Faivish didn’t deny it. His hands stayed on the instruments, though the muscle in his jaw worked.
Maisie’s stomach dropped.Father knew.Knew this city would devour them. Knew that keeping Faivish in Vienna meant losing him.
