I stood beside him, quiet. His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass.
He pointed to the blade. “This belonged to a boy who sang to statues in the temple gardens. The gods answered him once.”
“And you were there?”
“I taught him how to hold it without fear.”
I swallowed. “What happened to him?”
His eyes darkened. “He died. Like all of them. It’s just me, Camille, Orren, and the Renegade at the end.” His voice was low, loaded with so much sorrow that my heart sank. What would it feel like? I wondered. To have the entire world and all the time at your fingertips, but nobody to share it with?
I reached for his hand. He let me take it. “It sounds terribly lonely.”
His smile faded, but he didn’t look away. “The good parts are the hardest.”
I wanted to say something, anything, but the words didn’t come. Instead, I moved through the shop, letting the objects pull me forward. A cracked urn painted with scarabs. A stack of tablets wrapped in copper thread. An alabaster sculpture of a woman holding a crescent moon.
I turned to ask him something, but Emrys was watching me.
Not the way he watched strangers. Not the way he watched danger.
The way you might watch a star on the edge of falling.
“Don’t steal anything, little thief,” he said. “Come on. Enough memories and sadness. The night is still young. I know a place with gin and glassware that hasn’t been cursed. Yet.”
TheViceroy’s Seatreeked of cheap alcohol and cigar smoke.
Gaslight bathed the crowded room. Ceiling fans stirred the heat with slow, lazy moves. A gramophone in the corner rasped out something jazzy and off-tempo. Around us, pale-faced men in crumpled linen suits slouched into leather chairs, their voices too loud. They reminded me of Arthur and his friends, and my muscles tensed.
“Is this a good idea?” I asked when we walked to a table behind beaded fly curtains.
“It’s the only one with cold drinks and clean glasses,” he said, but his hand hovered near mine.
At the back corner table, a group of men raised their glasses in a sloppy toast. One was talking loudly over the rest, the kind of voice that demanded attention. I rolled my eyes.
“Blasted nonsense, all of it,” he was saying. “Locals warned us, of course. They always do. ‘Don’t break the seal, don’t take the statue, the tomb is sacred.’ Bah. If I hadn’t lifted that tablet, we’d never have found the second chamber.”
The others laughed.
“Wasn’t that the expedition where your partner dropped dead?” one asked, half-grinning.
The ringleader shrugged. “Poor bastard fell asleep and never woke up. Natural causes. The newspapers called it a curse.”
My stomach turned.
“Let the dead try to stop me. I’ve taken scarabs right off corpses, and I’m still here.”
He turned and locked eyes with Emrys.
Something passed between them. The man’s grin faltered.
“Well, well,” he said, eyeing me. “Didn’t know the city still had sorcerers. And who’s this? Your priestess? Or your little trophy from the dunes?”
Emrys didn’t move, but the air shifted.
The room seemed to dim.
His voice came low and even. “Say that again.”
